


Best of My Life

by edibleflowers



Series: A Year in the Life [2]
Category: Pop Music RPF
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-09-20
Updated: 2012-09-20
Packaged: 2017-11-14 17:12:18
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 44,205
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/517605
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/edibleflowers/pseuds/edibleflowers
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Karyn and JC still have a few issues to work out.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Best of My Life

**Author's Note:**

> The first sequel to Least Complicated; begun July 24, 2000, finished September 2, 2004. The title is from the song of the same name by 'N Sync. I strongly recommend reading "Least Complicated" first, or parts of this won't really make sense. The University of Central Florida does exist, but I've never been there, so I'm imagining it. If there are any conflicts, I apologize. I'd like to dedicate this one to Cromwell and Ana, for cheerleading me on "Least". Thanks, you guys.

In my defense, I'd just like to say that it's all Carrie's fault.

Well, it is. If she hadn't had the bright idea to go to DisneyWorld for Spring Break this year, I would have stayed the same as any other 'N Sync fan, loving them from afar just like their hundred million other fans. Oh, don't get me wrong -- I have absolutely nothing against other fans of the group, and I'm still one, more than ever.

But if it wasn't for Carrie, I wouldn't have found my heart with them, either.

I know you know the story: how we ran into three of the guys while we there, and Carrie discovered that Lance was actually her best friend from her childhood days, not to mention her first crush -- and if things weren't sparking like crazy between them, then I'm sorely mistaken. But I wasn't.

I was so jealous, and happy for her all at the same time -- but that was only when I wasn't fending off the attentions of a certain blue-eyed, black-haired charmer. (Okay, so I wasn't fending very hard. Sheesh, would you? I mean, come on, look at him.)

But just when things started getting to feel kind of serious, we had to leave. Boy, I really wasn't thrilled about that. Since then, though, J.C. and I had kept in regular phone contact, and quite often Lindsey came into my room, complaining that she needed to get online, so would I get off the phone? After a while I ended up getting my own phone line.

'N Sync had released their new CD, _No Strings Attached_ , in a flurry of publicity that included an hour-long special on MTV, which aired a couple of weeks after we saw them. Oh, I admit I was sitting about an inch from the screen, even though Carrie kept yanking me back; I couldn't get enough of seeing their faces. Already I missed them so much, and hearing their laughter made me remember everything all over again. I must have worn out a videotape watching "Bye, Bye, Bye", and if I got laughter when I danced the choreography across the quad, I didn't care.

Between all the promos, the constant tour rehearsals, and all the other decisions that had to be made before the tour got underway at the beginning of May, I was often surprised that JC found the time or energy to call me at all. Not that I was upset when he did, of course.

"You should be in bed," I'd scold him, curled up in my own comforter.

"I am," was his usual reply.

"Wish I was there with you."

"Me too."

A couple of days before _No Strings Attached_ 's release, he made a specific point of telling me not to buy it -- and to keep the others from doing so, either.

"Why not?" I asked, feeling a little disappointed. Though I'd heard most of the tracks in an incomplete state already, I'd been looking forward to contributing to its first-day sales. Right now, as far as I was concerned, it was all about kicking the Backstreet Boys' collective butts.

"You'll see," he said, and I did a few days later, when a package from Orlando arrived via Federal Express. Lindsey signed for it; since all of our names were on it, she made me wait until Carrie got back from class before opening it. I don't think I've spent a more nerve-wracking couple of hours. Finally, though, Carrie came home and the mysterious package's contents were revealed.

"So this is why," I murmured, pulling out three copies of the _No Strings Attached_ CD. Each one bore a Post-It note, labeling a copy for each of us. The CDs were wrapped in that most enjoyable of substances, bubble wrap, which Lindsey gleefully purloined while I opened my CD.

To my pleased surprise, the guys had personalized the booklet with autographs and random comments, as well as stick-figure caricatures drawn by Chris. I traced JC's signature with one finger, smiling as I read his message in a whisper: "Miss you, we'll be together soon -- this I promise you."

"Ohh! Karyn, look," Carrie exclaimed, and I glanced up in time to see her pouring a shower of glittery confetti hearts from her CD's case.

"Someone's got it bad," I commented, grinning at Lindsey.

Lance had, apparently, written something romantic and sweet in Carrie's CD, but she blushed when she read it and wouldn't let us see. I contented myself with looking at Lindsey's -- Joey had drawn a heart on his picture, and someone else (I suspected Chris) had added an eyepatch and long, curly mustachio.

"He looks better that way," I chuckled. Lindsey growled at me, then returned her attention to the box.

"Hey, there's something else in here."

Pulling the manila envelope out of Lindsey's hand, Carrie tore it open. Her smile grew even as Lindsey rolled her eyes.

"Sheesh, impatient much?"

I ignored her, going over to see what Carrie was holding. It appeared to be an outtake from a recent photo session -- the guys were posing in either ridiculous or overblown "sexy" stances, and the looks on their faces were nothing short of priceless. I couldn't keep from laughing at the picture, especially at JC's wide-eyed, shocked expression: he was pretending horrified offense at Joey, who was flexing his arms in a typical body-builder stance, complete with the exaggerated grimace. Justin preened in front of a mirror, hairspray in one hand and a pick in the other, while Chris held up the mirror, affecting a limp-wristed, effeminate posture. Lance, meanwhile, was giving the camera a 'you know you want me' look from beneath lowered eyebrows, completing the 'I'm-too-sexy' appearance with an unbuttoned silk shirt and leather pants.

"Oh, my," Carrie said, pretending to fan herself with a piece of paper.

"You realize they've set themselves up for about a million years' worth of teasing with this, don't you?" I laughed, glancing over the picture to see a message inscribed at the bottom: "see you soon!" Idly, I wondered who'd written that. The picture went up on the fridge after that, so we could all see it anytime.

Most of the time, I tried not to think too much about JC. I knew that they had a lot to do; so did I, with a full class load, and I wanted to focus on my grades, since I hadn't done so well in the previous semester. The last thing I wanted was to screw up my education. But being able to talk to him was a release and an escape, and so often all I wanted to do was to curl up in the warmth of his voice, even crackling on a phone wire, and forget about everything else.

I kept telling the others that I loved him, loved him, loved him. Yeah, I said that before I ever met him, but now it was so much more; I knew the person behind the mask, the real personality, and I adored it. Wanted more of it. Too much of him would never be enough. Of course, I didn't really love him, not then; I only thought I did.

Carrie kept track of them online, letting us know when the tour started and where it would be. We watched Lance's appearance on the celebrity version of _Who Wants to Be a Millionaire?_ , and Carrie hit me every time I teased her about how long it took him to get in the hot seat. Later on that evening, he called her -- coincidentally, the show aired on his twenty-first birthday, and apparently he was at a party in his honor in Mississippi, but, as Carrie related it, the only thing he really wanted for his birthday was the one thing he couldn't have: her. Aww. How sweet is that?

Well, I put in the effort and managed to finish out the semester with a B average. I actually found encouragement in my talks with JC, who would always make sure I got off the phone at a decent hour to get enough sleep for the next day. My mom was expecting me to come home right after the semester ended -- home being Sterling Heights, Michigan. But we had found out that "the guys", or "my boys" as I liked to call the group now, were going to be swinging through Indianapolis (making a pit stop, since they weren't actually playing there) in only a couple of weeks, so I talked Mom into letting me stay until then. Lindsey was taking summer classes, so she would be here until the beginning of August (otherwise, she'd have seen them a couple of days earlier in Kansas City), and Carrie lived not too far away in Evansville.

So we had a quasi-vacation -- well, Carrie and I did, at least. The town was more subdued after the school year ended; this was both a good and a bad thing, but for the most part I enjoyed being able to walk around the quiet streets without bumping into someone every two seconds. Sometimes I had to drag Carrie off of her computer to come outside and get some fresh air; she spent a lot of time emailing back and forth with Lance, and while I appreciated her fervor, I was also concerned for her well-being. She returned the favor by keeping my spirits up when I started getting depressed with missing JC.

And we both drove Lindsey just about crazy; she had a smaller schedule of classes than normal, but even so, she wanted to make sure she did well, and our antics didn't really help. The three of us had always been close, and I didn't want to jeopardize that friendship by doing something stupid and inadvertantly antagonizing.

Finally, thank God, June 24th rolled around. The guys had booked us a room in the same hotel in which they were staying, and since the 24th was a Saturday, we didn't have to worry about Lindsey missing any classes. I must have had my bag packed a week in advance, and while Carrie teased me about it, I knew she was just as eager to see Lance as I was to finally see JC again.

We drove up to Indianapolis early on Saturday morning; Carrie had been there a couple of times, but just to be sure, we printed out maps from the 'net and got excessive amounts of directions from her parents. I should probably mention that her parents were actually considering coming out as well, though they eventually decided against it. Carrie was very reserved about her feelings on that matter, but I figured those feelings probably weren't good, judging from her reluctance to discuss it. Still, what could they say if she was really in love?

Thoughts of concerned parents aside for the moment -- my own mom wasn't too thrilled, but I wasn't worrying about her today -- we managed to find the hotel after only taking two wrong turns. The nerves were getting to all of us when we checked in; I wrote my name down incorrectly in the register, and even Lindsey was jittering. We dragged our bags up to our fifth-floor room; Carrie urged me to call JC's cell phone, but suddenly I felt weird about it.

"Fine, I'll call Lance," she muttered, which naturally got me right off the bed where I'd collapsed; I had the phone in my hands before she could get within five feet of it.

Unfortunately, JC didn't answer his phone; instead, it rang until I got his voicemail. Disappointed, I hung up without leaving a message and handed it over to Carrie. She got Lance almost immediately, and I turned on the television to flip disconsolately through channels while she talked to him and Lindsey stuck her clothes in a drawer.

"They're just outside town now," she reported on a happy sigh as she hung up the phone. "Should be about an hour. I gave them the room number, so they'll come over when they get in."

"Did you ask why JC isn't answering his phone?" I asked, without looking away from the television.

"Oh! No, I forgot. Sorry," she said. "I'm sure he just turned the ringer off or something."

"Or something," I echoed her absently. Flicking over to MTV, I wasn't surprised to see the boys on -- it was a repeat showing of their performance on the recent movie awards, where they had sung "It's Gonna Be Me". I couldn't help but remember, now, how we'd seen a few blond girls behind them during the pre-show interview; that, combined with a couple of Internet rumors I'd read, was now swirling around in my head in a rather unsettling fashion.

"Karyn, stop it." Carrie's voice jarred me from my thoughts; I glanced up at her, trying to wipe the scowl off my face. Carrie saw it anyway, and laid down on the bed next to me. "I know exactly what you're thinking, and you need to stop thinking it. You know those rumors are really about you."

"Oh, right. I'm the tall blonde that went to the movie awards with him." I sighed, tossing the remote control aside. "I don't know, Carrie. It's been, what, four months? Why do I... oh, this is crazy."

"It is, and you need to relax. Come here." Carrie pulled me up and started rubbing my shoulders. "You're just nervous because you haven't seen JC since March. I'm exactly the same way, you know. I hate it as much as you do."

Lindsey came over suddenly and wrapped her arms around both of us. "It's gonna be all right, you two, okay? Now chill. Let's go check out the pool."

"I'll pass," Carrie promptly said, and I giggled.

Swimming did a lot to relieve my nerves; Lindsey and I followed the swimming with a brief stint in the jacuzzi and then the sauna, leaving only when we felt every drop of sweat had been wrung out of us. As we toweled off and tossed our clothes back on, I noticed Lindsey looking out into the lobby. "Oh, it's kind of busy out there," she commented.

I followed her glance; the hotel had installed plate glass, floor-to-ceiling, between the lobby and the pool, presumably to better display said pool. My heart stopped when I realized just what all the activity was. "It's them," I gulped. "Oh man, it's them, and we're all sweaty and stuff--"

"Come on," the ever-sensible Lindsey said, grabbing my arm before I could start gibbering. In a rush, we darted off to the secondary bank of elevators, punching buttons and praying that we'd have time to at least shower before the guys had finished checking in.

Naturally, I opened the door to the room -- Lindsey almost piling in on top of me -- to find them already there. They must have just arrived, I realized, seeing Lance and Carrie still hugging each other, and the radiant smile on her face mirroring his. Joey was lounging in one of the chairs, JC in the other; as we saw them, both stood up, smiling widely.

"Oh, gosh. Hi," I said, and that was the last thing I said for a while. JC's arms were comfortable and warm, solid, his body deliciously close to mine. I hadn't realized quite how much I'd missed him until then. He didn't seem to care that I was still hot and sweaty from the sauna; he was still a bit rumpled himself, from travel and an early wakeup. But oh, his smile was sweet, and I could have drowned in the depths of his eyes.

Suddenly feeling every bit of dishevelment, I colored and pulled away from him before anything else could happen. "I'm just going to take a shower," I told him, "I'm sorry, wanted to look my best..."

"It's okay," he smiled. "I'll be here."

I grabbed some clothes out of my suitcase and darted for the bathroom, ignoring Lindsey's teasing comment about the damage being done. She was in the middle of her own reunion with Joey, apparently unconcerned about her appearance. But I couldn't help being upset, and as I scrubbed myself off in the shower, I prayed that JC wouldn't suddenly start thinking me vain.

Getting clean helped me feel more confident and comfortable, though, and when I emerged from the bathroom area, dressed in a pair of shorts and a t-shirt, I threw my arms open and declared that I wanted hugs. By now Chris and Justin had arrived -- Justin looking odd and scowly, for what reason I couldn't fathom -- and Chris was the first to descend on me, wrapping his arms around me in a tight bearhug.

"Me next!" Joey asserted, jumping up from the bed where he'd been laying in a cuddly kind of position with Lindsey. I agreeably hugged him, gasping when he picked me up and tried to turn around in a circle. The room was too small for a proper swinging, though, for which I thanked God. After he put me down, I pretended that my head was spinning, stumbling into Justin to try and cheer him up. He hugged me somewhat indifferently, and I poked him in the side.

"You need to smile, Curls, or I'm gonna tickle you," I informed him. 'Curls' was actually a misnomer at the moment, seeing as how Justin's hair was braided into cornrows; but I knew that, even concealed in the tight hairstyle, his blond locks were as curly as ever. He gave me a half-hearted glare; I heard muted snickering from the others, and guessed that this mood of his wasn't a new thing. "All right, be that way. See if I ever try to make you happy again."

Turning away from him, while Joey winced audibly and JC laughing, "Man, she dissed you!", I proceeded to give Lance a hug -- though I had to lean over to do so, as he was sitting down. "And you, boy, are looking way too happy," I chuckled. "What happened while I was in the shower?"

That got a blush out of both him and Carrie, and, contented, I went over to JC, who was seated in the room's other chair, and sat down in his lap. "I got hugs," I told him happily.

"I see that." He was smiling, and I knew he wasn't jealous; if anything, I'd hoped it would only have been expected. We may only have hung out for a brief amount of time in March, but it was an intense few days and I'd come to feel very close to all five of them; to me it was only natural to want to give them all hugs in greeting. But now JC's arms encircled my waist, and those were the ones I wanted to have around me most of all.

"So what's going on?" Joey asked, already back on the bed with Lindsey.

Carrie shrugged. "We didn't get here too long before you guys, so we're as clueless as you."

"We could go get food." JC's suggestion perked up everyone's ears.

After quickly browsing through the restaurant guide provided by the hotel, we chose a local Italian place and headed out, accompanied by bodyguards, a couple of people from the crew, and -- for some reason -- the tour photographer, Abbey Eldridge, whom I vaguely recalled meeting when we visited the studio in Orlando. Justin seemed a bit distressed at the fact that Abbey had been invited along (apparently by Chris, who seemed to have a good friendship going on with her), and he stonily ignored the photographer throughout dinner.

Fortunately, we were seated at a large table, so the majority of the table served as a demilitarized zone. We had a good time in spite of the Abbey-Justin staredown (I resolved to ask JC what the heck was going on with those two later); Carrie and I had to struggle with Joey and Chris from starting a food fight, but it was all in fun. Afterwards, suggestions were made to hang out in a local park we'd seen while driving over to the restaurant. The head of security, Randy, reluctantly agreed, worried that the group would be recognized, so JC argued that if any problems arose, they'd leave right away.

A basketball was procured from a sporting goods store on the way, and we piled out of the passenger van (whose windows were, thankfully, tinted) to play. The park was all but deserted, to our joy. Carrie protested that she was no good, but Lance dragged her in anyway, saying that she could be on Justin's team. Justin protested; Carrie got embarrassed, and things went downhill from there.

My main memory of the evening is getting a three-point shot off of JC -- we had divided into teams of four, with Justin, JC, Joey, and Carrie against myself, Lindsey, Lance, and Chris. JC had been taunting me that I couldn't make the shot, and I just had to prove him wrong.

"Tell me what I can't do!" I crowed, grinning as my teammates cheered.

"Oh yeah?" He reached for me, pulling me up to him with sudden force, and I felt the breath go out of me in a gasp. "Bet you won't kiss me."

I'd been wanting to all night, to be honest. Well, hell, I'd wanted to rip his clothes off for months now. Seeing him in the hotel room had been one thing; now, seeing him on the court, in motion, his eyes fired and his body alive -- but now, in this paused moment, I felt my surety fade.

JC's grin flickered, and he let me go. "I'm sorry," he began, "that wasn't fair."

"N-no, it's okay." I reached for his hands again, gathered my nerve, and leaning up on my toes ( _damn reverse psychology!_ ), I pressed my lips to his. My heart was pounding, my hands suddenly cold in his -- after a moment, he put his arms around me, and I leaned into him again, this time willingly. It was -- powerful is the best word I can use, all of the pent-up desire I'd had for years spiraling into this intense kiss--

Hoots of laughter and applause broke into our awareness seemingly at the same moment; certainly we both pulled away from each other simultaneously, hearing the catcalling. My face felt on fire as I looked around, seeing Joey whooping with laughter -- Chris was pointing at us, clutching his stomach, and Justin clapped and crowed. Meanwhile, Lance was pointing at JC as well, but his eyes spoke of something more significant. I gave them all a round glare, including Lindsey and Carrie (both also grinning at me), put my hands on my hips and shouted.

"So do we have a game or what?"

We tumbled back into the hotel a couple of hours later, the guys taunting us with the win they'd eventually wrung from us. Abbey had returned to the hotel after dinner, I should note; she went back in the van, despite Chris's attempts to talk her into staying out with us. She seemed a bit stand-offish to me even when she wasn't being cranky with Justin, so I wasn't really sorry to see her go.

"So what are we doing next?" I asked in the elevator. The day was still fairly young, especially when I rarely got to sleep before three o'clock.

Joey got a calculating look on his face, while Chris chuckled. "Let's just say we've got plans," Lance said, squeezing Carrie's hand.

"You brought clubbing clothes, right?" JC asked me. I nodded, remembering that specific part of the e-mail that they'd sent earlier this month with the full weekend's itinerary.

"We're going out?"

"Just go get dressed." He gave me a gentle push in the small of my back just as the elevator doors opened, and I stumbled into the hall, giggling.

"Oh, you're gonna pay for that, buster," I promised. JC affected a frightened look and took off running; I tore after him, hearing the others laugh behind us. He made it to his room, fumbled for his keycard -- but it was too late, I'd already caught up to him. Grinning madly, I started tickling him without mercy. His laugh was a wonderful thing.

I let him go without too much torture, though. After all, this was only a minor offense. By now the others had arrived, and the sight of JC on the floor, his back to the door and his arms clutched around his stomach from trying to block me, set the guys off in more hysterical laughter.

"We'd better get out of here before they decide to kill me," I chuckled. "Meet you in the lobby?"

Justin nodded as he helped JC up. "See you in an hour."

We took rapid showers and changed, speculating on what the plans for tonight could be. Were we going to a club in town, or was something else going on that we should know about?

Once I was ready, I helped Carrie with her hair while she put on makeup. She was trying out a more daring look than usual: a halter top that tied in the back, paired with low-cut, hip-hugging black pants. Together, the outfit probably showed more skin than had all of the clothes she'd worn in Florida combined. It was definitely a new look for conservative Carrie; as a result, she was nervous, and I did my best to reassure her that she looked incredible. It wasn't flattery, either; she really did look good.

"I don't know, Karyn," she said after I'd finished with her hair; I'd twisted the upper part of it back in a bun, with spiky locks sticking out from the twist, and sprinkled her with glitter to complete the image. She'd been saying that exact same phrase for the past half hour, so I ignored her.

"Relax, Carrie," Lindsey called from the main bedroom area, where she was pulling on her short-skirted crushed velvet dress. "Lance will not be able to speak when he sees you, trust me."

I gently moved Carrie out of the way so that I could do my own hair and makeup. I was tying part of mine back as well, to keep it from getting in my face, and using glitter to match my silver tank top. As I worked on my hair, I watched Carrie in the mirror. I was a little worried about her; usually she was calm, the one who reassured me -- it was my traditional role to be frantic and nervous. But I knew that the new clothes were testing her self-confidence, as was the worry over what would be happening tonight.

Privately, I was worried about JC's potential reaction to my outfit, but, for Carrie's sake, I tried not to let it get to me. He'd seen me mostly in casual outfits before; this would be the first time I'd dressed up for him.

Of us all, Lindsey evinced the calmest demeanor. This didn't surprise me, though; she never let anything ruffle her. Now, I was grateful to her as she took Carrie aside and talked to her softly to calm her down, letting me finish my makeup without her hovering over me.

Finally, we were ready. I took the room key Carrie gave me -- now that she had calmed down to some extent, she'd reverted to mothering mode, making sure we'd all have a way back into the room.

"Just in case someone doesn't make it back with the rest of us?" I teased, winking at her. She blushed prettily.

We headed out in the hall to find the guys ready for us. They had all dressed up in hot, trendy clothes, and I stood back for a moment to admire them. Black was the dominant color, with silver a close second; Chris's bright orange-and-yellow tie-dyed shirt stood out brightly from the others' clothes. The guys' reactions to us were adorable; low whistles greeted us, and Chris staggered, putting his hands to his eyes as if he'd been blinded.

Lance's jaw dropped when he saw Carrie; I couldn't contain my snickering when I saw the look of astonishment on his face, as if he was seeing her in a whole new light. Carrie had gone as red as her halter top, her arms crossed in front of her; but he walked up to her, took her hands to peel them away from her torso, and looked at her for a few more moments before leaning over to whisper something in her ear. She blushed even brighter. Lindsey leaned over and high-fived me, grinning. At least one of our missions had been accomplished.

JC came over to me then, sliding his arms around my waist. "You look amazing," he informed me, nuzzling my ear with his lips. The feel of his bare hands on my exposed skin made me shiver, his breath in my ear doing quivery things to my insides.

"So do you," I replied honestly. He did, too, in a black vest, loose jeans belted at the waist, and one silver chain sparkling at his throat.

The sound of Chris clearing his throat made me realize that I'd been staring at JC for several moments now. "Are we ready to go?" Chris asked in a plaintive, whining tone.

"He's just jealous," JC informed me, taking my hand. We followed the others down to the elevators; as we walked, I glanced over to Justin, who seemed remote and in more of a mood than he'd been before. He was wearing black slacks and a blue t-shirt, his hair hidden under a bandana, and a headset over his ears led to a Discman slung on his hip.

"What's with him?" I murmured to JC, careful to keep my voice low.

JC rolled his eyes before replying in a whisper. "It's a long story. I'll tell you later." With that I had to be satisfied, but I determined to make him tell me soon.

We piled into the elevator; Lindsey was asking where we were going, Joey replying to her that it was still a surprise. A few of the crew members who had joined us on the way down the hall laughed, apparently in on it as well.

I began to agitate as they led us through the lobby to the other wing of the hotel, where I'd seen conference rooms and such on an earlier jaunt. Something was starting to tingle in the back of my mind, but I didn't know for sure until we reached the end of the hall. There, one of the crew guys ahead of us threw open the doors to the hotel's ballroom, and music and light poured out like a tidal wave towards us.

I'd seen the room earlier, when Lindsey and I had been prowling around looking for the pool. Then, the room was quiet and shuttered, tables and chairs neatly arranged over the carpeted half of the floor with the other half tiled for dancing. Now, the tables had been cleared to the sides, colored lights flashed over the dance area, and music blasted from a DJ's PA system. As we entered the room, Carrie, Lindsey and I wide-eyed with astonishment, the rest of the crew sent up a cheer.

"What in the...?" Carrie gasped.

"No good clubs in town?" I asked, chuckling.

JC shrugged. "We wanted to do something special, a little more private," he said.

"And to celebrate Lindsey's birthday," Joey added, "since we just missed it." To my surprise, Lindsey actually blushed at that.

"So let's party!" Chris was the first to join those already on the dance floor; the rest of us were quick to follow. Taken aback by all of it, I had to pause a moment to hug JC tightly.

"Thank you," I murmured in his ear.

He smiled softly at me, his eyes sparkling in the lights. "You're welcome, sweetie."

The floor was packed with people dancing, laughing, having a good time. Though an open bar had been supplied, nobody seemed to be abusing the privilege. Most of the light moods came from the fact that they had an evening off to relax, so that even though though the stagehands knew they'd have to get up early to get to Lexington ahead of time, right now they weren't worrying about it at all.

I had a blast dancing with JC, who proved to be both an inventive and a fun dance partner. After several fast songs in a row, I had to take a break; he was wearing me out. He offered to get some water for me, and I agreed, making my way over to a table to sit down. Carrie and Lance joined me there soon after, and JC followed with two bottles of water.

We were talking about the DJ's style when I noticed Abbey come in through the far entrance. She'd changed clothes, looking far more relaxed than before, and she was glancing around as if in specific search of one person. When she didn't see whoever it was, she headed over to the bar to join a pretty black-haired woman standing there.

"Hey, Abbey's here," Lance commented.

"Yep. Where's Justin?" JC asked in a seeming non sequiter.

I saw the woman at the bar point; a moment later, Abbey walked over to the balcony's open doors and slipped outside. "Why would she be looking for Justin?" I asked JC, leaning close so I wouldn't have to shout over the music.

JC gave me an enigmatic look, reaching under the table to squeeze my hand. "There's something going on between them. I'm not sure what exactly, but we went out to this club in Minneapolis last night, and -- well, we think she really likes him, she just won't admit it."

Ah, this was gossip, all right, and he hadn't mentioned word one of it to me in our various phone conversations. "They were staring daggers at each other today at the restaurant," I noted. "Is it one of those love/hate things?"

"Kind of," JC said. "He hasn't really talked a lot about it, though."

Strange, I thought. Still, despite the prospect of juicy gossip, I wasn't really in the mood to talk about other people tonight. This was promising to be something of a final blowout, since tomorrow at this time I'd be back at my mom's house in Sterling Heights, Michigan, and Carrie would be in Evansville. And who knew when I'd see Lindsey again?

Shaking off the depressing thoughts, I turned to Carrie, who was giggling at something Lance had just told her. "Having a good time?" I asked her. Her eyes were dancing, and with flushed cheeks, she gave me a nod.

"This is all... so..." She gestured with one hand as words failed her. I nodded in perfect understanding, still feeling a bit overwhelmed myself that 'N Sync had taken their day off to throw us a party. We laughed together, then, when their current single, "It's Gonna Be Me", started blaring out of the speakers. Across the table, JC gave Lance a speculative look; then, in perfect accord, they got up, pulling us across to the dance floor.

"Come on!" JC shouted at me. "You have to dance for Justin, since he's sulking."

"What?!" But even with my messy, horribly inept choreography, I danced it and had a blast.

I think it was around one in the morning when we gave up dancing for the night. I know I was exhausted, though in a very pleasant way. Lindsey stopped at Joey's room -- his brother, with whom he was rooming, hadn't come upstairs yet -- and gave us a wink before going in with him. I giggled at her, happy for her, before continuing down the hall with JC, Carrie, and Lance.

Outside the door to our room, I leaned on the wall, yawning. Carrie retrieved her keycard and used it to open the door, but she seemed as unwilling to go inside as I felt. The night was ending far too soon; I didn't like it.

JC leaned on the wall next to me, putting his head on my shoulder and giving me a puppy-dog look. I tried to smile for him, but it must have looked as fake as it felt, because he pulled me into a hug.

"It's okay," he murmured as I put my arms around him, burying my face against his shoulder.

"I can't stand having to say goodbye to you this soon," I whispered. "It was hard enough the last time."

He rested his head atop mine, pressing kisses into my glittery hair. "I know," he replied, and his soft words were as pained as my own hurting heart.

I pulled back for a moment to shove the back of my hand over my wet cheeks. Glancing at Lance and Carrie, I saw them consumed in a similar embrace; a thought sprung to my mind, the memory of her telling us how she'd fallen asleep in Lance's arms at his house when we were in Florida.

"Let's go back to your room," I said, feeling impulsive. He didn't need much convincing, just took my hand and led me down the hall to the room he and Chris shared. I knew that Chris hadn't left the craziness of the party yet, and I really wanted just a little private time with JC before the night was out.

My memory regarding Chris's location served correct; the room was unoccupied and dark when JC opened the door. I hit the switch, illuminating the main bedroom area, as we came in; then he tugged me gently to the nearest bed, my hand still firmly clasped in his. Out of habit, I tucked one leg under me as we sat down on the end of the bed.

"You know, I think this is the first time we've been alone together since you were down in Orlando," he observed.

"Except in my dreams," I quipped. He gave a soft chuckle at that, his eyes warm.

"You know, I still feel bad about the game," he said. It took me a minute to connect with what he was saying, and then I realized that he was referring to the way he'd challenged me into the kiss during the basketball game.

I shrugged, attempting nonchalance. "It's okay. I mean, I'm not complaining, it wasn't maybe the way I'd envisioned our first kiss, but you know, it's over and done with now--"

"Well," and he looked a little sheepish, "it doesn't have to be."

I felt my heart speed up a little. "What do you mean?"

His mouth quirked in a half-smile, and he turned a little on the bed to face me; his hand released mine, sliding up to cradle my cheek in his cupped palm. "We can say that that wasn't really our first kiss, and have a new one instead."

"Oh," I said, because my mind wasn't processing much else. My gaze settled on his lips, and unconsciously I licked my own. "That's a good plan."

"All right then." He leaned towards me, closing the distance between us -- not that there had been much distance there to begin with -- and I put my hands on his waist just as his lips met mine. I closed my eyes, feeling warmth begin to flood my senses as he touched me. His hand slid into my hair, the heat of his body close to mine provoking a deeper response from me; I pushed closer to him, all but crawling into his lap. Oh, and his mouth on mine, so hot, his lips sensuous and smooth; his kiss took my breath away, made me dizzy.

I was breathing shallower when we parted; he gave me one last tiny kiss before we pulled away from each other. My hands were on his back now, my arms around him, my nose just a few inches from his.

"Wow," I murmured.

"Yeah," he said, and took a shuddering breath.

"You know," I said thoughtfully, sliding a hand into his hair, "we have a lot of time to make up for."

"Not to mention all the time ahead of us when we'll be missing each other," he pointed out.

"And we'll want it to be just right next time, so maybe we should, you know, practice," I suggested, my tone thoughtful.

"I'm liking this idea." He curled his arms around me, pulling me flush against him. I let out a soft sound of enjoyment at that, letting my fingers rake gently down his back so that he could feel the tips through the fabric of his vest. His eyes were darker than usual, the lids lowered so that his pupils were half-hidden behind the long sweep of lashes.

JC looked at me for a long moment, with that remote, seeking gaze, before he bent his head to kiss me again. I could have lost myself in the taste of him, the feel of his arms around me, his hands rubbing up and down my back. One hand slid into my hair, finding and pulling out the clip that had held it back. My hair fell free, the curls bouncing around my face, cascading glitter. I laughed as the shimmery shower glimmered around JC's face, snowing on his hair and shoulders.

"How much of this stuff did you use?!" he exclaimed, laughing.

"Enough that we'll both be going 'bling bling' for at least a week," I giggled.

"At least we match." He pulled me down, then, and I shrieked as we toppled over on the mattress.

Propping myself up on my hands, I gave him a pretend glare. "And what are you trying to do now, mister?"

"Trying to get glitter all over my bed." His hand slid over my back, fingertips teasing inside the high-rising hem, sending shivers up and down my spine. My legs had fallen between his, and one of my hips was pressed up against a very heated portion of his anatomy. A moment of weakness swept through me then, as the absurd thought hit me: _oh my God, I'm about to get busy with JC Chasez_! But that passed, that fan-image of him already faded and faint beside the vivid reality of the man laying below me. It didn't matter who he was to the world; all that mattered to me was that he was a guy I liked, a guy who liked me... and a guy I wanted very much to kiss right now.

He must have seen the momentary indecision and worry on my face. Smoothing my hair back from my eyes, he asked softly, "What is it? What's wrong?"

"Nothing now." I shook my head, shifted a little to get slightly more comfortable, and bent down to kiss him.

I didn't know whether to be relieved or annoyed when, a few minutes later, Chris emerged into the room, calling farewells to some of the crew people he'd come up with. By then I was laying on my side next to JC, one of my legs between his; we'd been talking a little, between kisses, and I had just started to feel comfortable enough to want to ask him about some of the rumors I'd been hearing. Yet I was still a bit afraid to hear the answer. Nonetheless, we jumped apart like a couple of guilty kids when we heard the door open.

"Oh-ho, this is where you guys got to!" Chris crowed on seeing us. I flushed with embarrassment as JC stood up, giving Chris the evil eye. Chris blithely laid down on his bed, chuckling as he kicked his shoes off. "Oh, you two just ignore me, I'm not even here."

"Yeah, right." JC offered me his hand; I slipped my sandals back on and stood, letting him escort me to the door.

"Goodnight," he murmured, putting his arms around me for one last embrace.

"Night." I couldn't keep from touching him again, just wanting to trace the lines of his face with light fingertips. He kissed me again, this time a soft, sweet goodnight kiss. I closed my eyes against the sudden downswing in emotions brought on by the awareness that our time together was coming to a close.

"Goodnight, Karyn!" I heard Chris call out. That gave me enough energy to smile.

"Night, John-Boy!" I called back to him. He chuckled, and I smiled up at JC.

"You'd better get going before you spend the whole night here," he told me.

"Remind me again why that's a bad thing?" I tried to chuckle, but it didn't quite reach my throat. Sighing, I grabbed his hand again and squeezed it, then made myself open the door and leave. More than anything, I felt like I was leaving my heart in the room behind me.

Carrie was still awake when I got back to the room, though she was in bed, curled up with a magazine. She'd taken down her hair and changed; I could still see glitter on her cheeks, and surmised that she was putting off a shower until the morning.

"I'm home, Mom," I called as I came in, dropping the keycard on the dresser and kicking off my shoes.

"Well, that's one checking in. Did you see Lindsey?" she asked, flipping a page.

"Nope. I'm guessing she and Joey are bumping uglies in his room."

"Ka-RYN!" Carrie giggled behind her magazine, probably at my euphemism rather than the actual content of my sentence. I exploited the latter option instead, enjoying the way she giggled and squirmed at my words.

"Oh, come on, like you didn't see that happening. They were practically making out on the dance floor, I mean I saw them feeling each other up." I grinned as I gathered up my sleep clothes. "You can't tell me you and Lance weren't feeling those separation pangs."

Silence greeted that statement; I looked up from my bag to see Carrie's dark grey eyes focused on the magazine again. "Something happen?" I asked, feeling suddenly worried. I'd expected Lance to still be here on my return; maybe they'd had a fight..?

After a moment, Carrie held out her right hand. A ring glittered on it, diamond and peridot winking together in a classy, intricate setting. Even as I gasped an "Oh my God!" and got up for a closer look, she began to explain.

"It's a promise ring, just so that I'll have something to look at and be able to think of him with, the peridot's my birthstone..."

"Good God, Carrie, it's gorgeous. When did he give it to you?" I asked, holding her hand so that I could better examine the ring.

"When we were downstairs at the party."

"And you didn't tell me right away? What kind of a best friend are you?"

She pretended to cower at my mock-glare. "I didn't get a chance. Besides, you were all hot and heavy with JC."

I couldn't deny that, so I plucked the magazine out of her hands and tossed it at her. "Just for that, I'm sleeping in Lindsey's bed tonight."

"You're going to leave me all lonely?" Carrie giggled. "What if Lindsey does come back?"

"Then I guess she'll get a surprise." I fled into the bathroom area just in time to avoid the pillow Carrie flung after me.

We got up at a decent hour the next morning to have breakfast in the hotel's restaurant; soon after we got down there, the guys strolled in as well. It seemed perfectly natural by now for JC to sit down next to me and sling his arm over my shoulders, while Lance sat next to Carrie. Chris grabbed the seat next to Lindsey, forcing Joey to fight him for it. Justin was looking a lot happier than he'd been the night before, but he didn't say anything; when the waitress arrived, he ordered the breakfast bar and headed over to get some cereal.

I arched an eyebrow at JC. "I'd say that boy's been PMSing, but unless he's gone through a sex change or had some estrogen injections..."

JC shuddered at the very implication of needles. "Don't ask me," he said. "But didn't he and Abbey leave together last night?"

"I think I saw Justin follow her," Lance volunteered, before retreating into his orange juice. Carrie cast a confused look at him, then over at me, including the rest of the table in the sweep of her gaze.

"Don't look at me," I said. "I'm as clueless as you are."

Her eyes settled on JC, who shook his head, raising a hand. "I'm not involved, I do not know what's going on, so don't ask."

"Ask what?" Justin settled down in the last empty chair, a bowl of cereal in one hand and a glass of milk in the other. With great deliberation, he poured the latter into the former.

"Nothing," Carrie said. She pouted a little as she opened up the menu and began to peruse it with great interest. Taking her cue, I did the same; I knew I could get the gossip out of JC later. Justin gave us suspicious looks before digging into his cereal.

After breakfast, we all headed back upstairs to get packed; the guys were leaving soon, and we had to head back to Bloomington. I kept wanting to find reasons -- excuses, really -- to stay in the hotel room for a little longer, but soon everything was together and I had no more lame holdouts.

The guys were there, waiting outside by the buses, when we got downstairs. Carrie dropped her suitcase and went straight into Lance's arms, burying her face against his shoulder; his eyes squeezed tightly shut as he closed his embrace around her, pain etched in the drawn lines of his face. He held her tightly, with at the same time a sense of utter tenderness, as if he was trying to impress on his memory the feel of her in his arms.

"Hey," JC said softly, coming up to slide his arms around my waist. My throat filling with a lump, I could only hug him close and tight, trying to memorize the feel of his body against mine. The tears came despite my struggle to hold them in, but he murmured soothingly in my ear, soft and comforting, letting me cry.

"I don't want you to go," I whispered. "I wish I'd told my mom I was skipping it all and coming on tour with you until the fall."

"I know," he said. His voice was a bit shaky, too, and when I looked up at him I saw the emotion in his deep blue eyes. "I wanted you to come with, I'm just..."

I nodded, knowing what he was going to say. It was still so soon, and I think we were both a little scared that being in close proximity for a month and a half would sorely test the bare bones of our relationship. Fumbling in a pocket for a tissue, I finally found one, and used it to blow my nose and wipe my eyes.

"Hey," he murmured, "look." He nudged my shoulder so that I could look in the appropriate direction; what I saw made me smile a little. Beyond Lindsey and Joey, who were smiling sadly at each other, Justin and Abbey seemed to be talking in low tones. Then he reached out and pulled her into his embrace, and she went willingly -- or so it seemed to me. She looked different this morning, somehow; relaxed, maybe, younger definitely. Maybe not so tight-assed after all.

"Never would have thought I'd see that," JC murmured to me.

I pushed his shoulder, just enough to get his attention. "You are going to tell me everything that's going on with them, okay? And with everything else. I have to have something to keep my dull life interesting."

"You're never dull." He kissed my forehead. "But yes, I will be better about telling you what's going on."

"You have my mom's number, right?" I asked. I'd given it to him sometime yesterday, but I had to confirm.

"Yep. And you know you can email me or call anytime."

"Except during shows." I smiled up at him. "Or can I call then too?"

"You can, but if I don't answer, it's cause I'm doing a backflip," he replied. He hugged me again, then, with a distinctly regretful look, released me. "We have to get going, hon."

"All right. We should, too." I pushed a hand through my hair and took a difficult step backwards.

We dragged our suitcases to the car, parked nearby, and sat there, watching them get organized on the buses. The subdued atmosphere in Carrie's car spoke more than anything to tell me that Carrie and Lindsey weren't enjoying this moment any more than I; Carrie didn't even start the car until the buses had pulled out, and we trailed them out to the road and back to the highway. Then the buses took their exit, and we had to go on to the one heading the opposite direction. I stared after them until I couldn't see them anymore.

To say that the trip back was quiet would be an understatement. We listened to the radio, flipping stations when one faded out; Lindsey sat in the back, reading her homework for a class; I had finished the book I'd brought with me on the way up, so I pretty much looked out the window for most of the trip, trying to recall as best I could the feeling of JC's body in my arms. Carrie was equally silent, but when I looked at her every now and then, I could see that she was thinking deep thoughts about something; her eyes would occasionally slip to the ring on her right hand before returning to the road.

The more I observed this, the more I wondered what she was thinking about; finally, about twenty miles out of Bloomington, I asked her what was on her mind.

"Oh," she said, flippant, "I'm thinking about transferring to Central Florida."

"You too, huh?" I chuckled, remembering a lighthearted conversation we'd had a couple of weeks earlier; I'd had her online, looking up schools in Florida on the off chance that one might have the kind of programs we were currently in, and one had jumped out at us: the University of Central Florida, situated in Orlando, with a webpage displaying a beautiful, sun-drenched campus. I'd made Carrie save the link, and ever since then the idea had entrenched itself in my brain.

"Yeah," she nodded. "I figure I'll pitch it at my parents sometime in the next week or so. Have to get the stuff going now, pretty much, transcripts and everything."

"You really think they'll be okay with the idea?"

Carrie gave a little sigh. "I doubt it. But... well, I have to try, you know?"

I had to smile. "Yeah, I know." The back of my mind was already sorting through arguments, discarding some, considering others. I'd had a hard enough time convincing my mother to let me go to IU when there were closer schools that she considered just as acceptable. Now, with one year left before graduation, how would she take the idea that I wanted to transfer to, of all places, Florida?

A dozing Lindsey stirred awake when we pulled into the driveway of the duplex. We stretched, pulled ourselves out of the car, stumbled inside. Most of our packing was already done, so I only had a few things to stuff into bags and boxes. I dragged my feet. Well, shoot me; I didn't want to leave, not knowing that I wouldn't be seeing Carrie and Lindsey again for a while. They're my best friends, after all.

No matter how I tried to delay the inevitable, I couldn't put it off forever. Finally I had all of my bedroom stuff packed in my car, and as I gathered a last few items from the main living area, I tried to fight the feeling that this would be the last time all three of us would be in the same place.

Carrie didn't give me a chance to offer a flippant remark; she just pulled me into a firm hug. "Don't cry," she told me firmly. "It'll be all right."

"I know," I said, fighting back the tears that she'd seen forming in my eyes. "I can't help it."

I hugged Lindsey, who was wordless but gave me a solid smile, denied by the moisture in her own eyes; then, heavy-hearted, I got into my car and pulled out of the driveway for my second roadtrip of the day.

* * *

Several hours later, I pulled up in my driveway. The house was dark, giving a fairly clear indication that nobody was home. I can't say I wasn't disappointed, since Mom knew I was coming home today. The door was unlocked, at least, so I was able to get in. A quick glance through the house confirmed my suspicions: I was the only person home. Oh well. I went back to the car and started hauling out bags of junk.

The phone started ringing during one of my trips; I dumped my things hastily on the couch and grabbed the familyroom phone, gasping out a greeting.

"Hi," said the caller, sounding confused. "Is, uh, Karyn home?"

Despite myself, I grinned. "Hey, JC. It's me."

"Oh, okay. Just didn't sound like you."

"I know, I've been bringing stuff in from the car. What's up?" I dragged the garbage bag full of dirty laundry down to my room, dropped it on the floor and fell on the bed, the air going out of me in a whoosh.

"Not much, I just missed you. Wanted to hear your voice." He sounded a bit depressed, and I wished I could hug him.

"I know the feeling," I chuckled. "Have an exciting last day off?"

"Driving to Louisville? Yeah, it was okay. We all went out to a movie. Justin and Abbey and Lance are out doing something right now, I don't know what."

"All right, you never did tell me what's up with those two."

"Justin and Lance?" JC's voice sparkled with mirth. "Well, you know, we've been trying to keep it under wraps, but..."

"Oh, shut up. You know what I mean," I scolded him.

"Yeah, yeah. See, I'm not even sure, really. We know he likes her, but she really hasn't acted like she's felt the same way. Except that there's obviously some sort of tension going on between them, and since the other night they've been starting to act a lot more friendly to each other."

"So maybe there is something going on there," I mused.

"Yeah, that's what I'm thinking. All I can tell you is that they're not spitting at each other anymore, and he wants to change the whole thing we've had of how we deal with girlfriends in the media. Which means that it's going to have some kind of effect on us, and..."

I sucked in a breath. "Yeah, I guess so. I mean, are you going to out-and-out tell people that you're seeing me, and like, the others and stuff?"

He paused a long moment before replying. "No, not exactly. We're going to have a meeting with Johnny in Cleveland, he's flying up. We might have to have a press conference or something. So, uh..."

I had a feeling I knew what he was trying to say. "You know, I'm not that far from Cleveland. I was actually going to see about getting tickets to at least one of the shows."

"Would it be okay?" He sounded uncertain, worrying me a little. "I mean, I know your mom was upset already."

"Yeah, but it'll be okay. It's not like she can lock me in my room to keep me here. Besides, it'll be worth it to see you again."

"All right." He started to say more, but I lost it over the noise of the front door opening and voices from the front of the house. "...so I'll call you with the details, all right?"

"Sounds good. I have to run, they're home. I'll talk to you later," I promised, getting up.

"Miss you," he said softly.

"Me too," I said, sighing before clicking the phone off. I didn't quite know what to expect, so I was feeling more than a little nervous as I walked out into the front of the house. My mother was already in the familyroom, sitting down and turning on the television; I could hear my stepfather in the study, presumably catching up on some work.

"Hi, mom," I murmured, the phone dangling from one hand. She looked up at me, and her smile surprised me; I'd been expecting a look of disapproval, at best.

"Hey, honey. We saw your car in the driveway. Do you have everything unpacked, or do you need some help?"

"There's only a couple more things," I replied.

"Ah." She turned the volume down on the television, which was now displaying some sitcom or another, as I forayed far enough into the room to replace the phone on its base. I turned around to head for the front door, intending to finish unpacking the car, but her voice stopped me before I made it out of the room. "Sit down," she invited, "tell me about the trip."

The conversation was all right, as such things go; it always takes me a little time to re-establish the dynamic with my mom, so the first day or so is generally pleasant enough. I was able to tell her about how enjoyable the weekend with the guys was, about the fun we had at the basketball game and the party in the hotel ballroom, and how great JC was, without too many interruptions or sour glances. As I segued the conversation into what I hoped was a subtle statement that I would be road-tripping to Cleveland to see them, though, my mother's expression began to grow dark.

"So you're just going to go?" she asked. "Have you thought about maybe getting a summer job or something?"

"Yeah, I'm going to find something," I told her. "I can look in between now and Thursday."

"Thursday?" Mom repeated. "That soon?"

"Well, yeah. That's how the tour goes. They're playing in Cleveland on Friday and Saturday, and then they're going to--" I tipped my head back, trying to remember the itinerary. "--Buffalo, I think. And I have no idea when I'd get a chance to see them again."

"Karyn, don't you think this is a little foolish?" she said. Inwardly, I steeled myself, feeling the battle approaching, as she continued. "I mean, you're twenty-two years old. You've got one year of college left, and then you'll be in the workforce, and there really isn't a lot of time for childish obsessions when you're working for a living--"

"This isn't a childish obsession," I replied, forcing my voice to remain calm. "JC is my boyfriend."

"Oh, he's your boyfriend now? And how many other girls with crushes on him are claiming the same thing?"

I rolled my eyes. Somehow, I'd known that she would think I was lying about the whole thing, that I'd made up the relationship because I was so obsessed with 'N Sync that my fantasies had eclipsed my real life. "It's not a fantasy, Mom. I really like him, he's a nice guy, and I'd like to see him whenever I can because I think this is a relationship worth pursuing."

Mom's lips narrowed, her expression darkening in a look that suggested she was convinced I'd flipped my lid this time. I never was able to fathom why she always assumed I was lying about things that happened with me; I'd never lied about relationships in the past, and while she knew well of my love of 'N Sync, she had also witnessed my failed attempts to meet them before. Why would I lie now?

Sighing, I stood up. "I'm going to go finish getting my stuff out of the car. I promise I'll go look for a job tomorrow, but please, don't think I'm lying to you about this. I'm telling the truth."

She said nothing as I walked out of the room, and I breathed a sigh of relief once I made my escape.

After further discussion, Mom agreed to let me go if I found a job before Thursday. I searched frantically, finally finding an immediate interview at a local steakhouse-style restaurant. They desperately needed waitresses, and since the atmosphere was slightly upscale, the tips would be pretty decent -- and, I hoped, the clientele as well. I knew Mom wasn't thrilled by my choice of employers when I told her the news on Wednesday, but I'd fulfilled my part of the bargain, and on Thursday morning, I eagerly tossed my overnight bag in the car and headed down to Cleveland to see my honey.

As I drove into Cleveland, I felt my heart begin to pound harder. It wasn't the nervousness of driving in an unfamiliar city; I'd been here a couple times before, to visit the Rock & Roll Hall of Fame, and to see Indians games with a cousin who lived in Westlake. No, this was definitely the giddiness of anticipation causing my heart to race. Had it only been five days since I'd last seen JC? God, it already felt like forever.

Soon, the detailed instructions and map -- which had been couriered to me a couple of days earlier, along with a personalized security badge -- led me directly to the Cleveland Ritz-Carlton, in the heart of the city's rejuvenated downtown. I parked underneath the hotel in its subterranean garage, grabbed my stuff, and headed up to the hotel itself.

I was pretty sure that I wouldn't be hassled if I acted like I knew where I was going (which I was; JC had told me last night which floor they'd be on). When one of the guards politely stopped me at my approach to the elevator, I swiftly realized that this was probably a tactic employed by most 'N Sync fans desperate to get a glimpse of their idols.

"Oh, hey -- Mike!" I grinned, recognizing the burly guard from Indianapolis and the Jive offices in Florida. "It's me, Karyn." Seeing his face remain impassive, I belatedly realized that my badge was still in my pocket, and yanked it out posthaste.

Mike shook his head with a sigh. "You ought to be wearing that thing around, you know," he informed me. Even as I realized that he'd been stringing me along, he was ushering me towards the elevator and pushing the call button. Chastened, I looped the lanyard around my neck.

"Sorry. Guess I'm a bit excited to, uh, to see JC again," I said, fumbling for words and adding a nervous giggle only partially faked.

We waited in uncomfortable silence for the elevator; once it arrived, I gave Mike another smile and entered it, feeling distinctly uneasy. Was something going on that I should be aware of? JC hadn't mentioned anything happening, even when I'd pushed him about Justin and Abbey; he'd only told me that Justin had asked Abbey out on a date, and they were going out tonight. Would that cause problems, somehow? I wondered.

Another of the guards, Lonnie, was at the elevator door as it opened, giving me a smile. I blinked to see him there already; then it dawned on me that Mike had probably radioed up to warn him of my arrival. As I stepped out of the car, the sound of running feet and yelling from down a side corridor drew my attention; Lonnie had to grab my suitcase to keep the elevator doors from closing on it.

Chris pelted around the corner, a frantic fear in his eyes. "Oh my God, he's gonna kill me!" he gasped. His eyes lit up when he saw me, and he ran towards me, yelping. "Karyn! Hide me!"

"Whatever it is, you probably deserve it," I laughed.

He made tracks, slipping around behind me just as JC rounded the corner. "Oh, no, you don't, Kirkpatrick," he shouted; his steps slowed as he saw the three of us.

"What the h-heck did you do?!" I could hardly talk for laughing. Chris peeked out from behind me, his hands gripping my upper arms, as JC stalked slowly towards us; a hellish anger had lit my boyfriend's eyes, though I thought he seemed amused as well as angry.

"He superglued all of my underwear together," JC informed me in a seething voice. I could have sworn I saw smoke coming out of his ears.

Chris ducked behind me, calling in a high-pitched voice, "Don't kill _me_ , JC! I'm your _girl_ friend!" This sent me over the edge into whooping laughter.

"Traitor," JC accused me, but I saw the corners of his mouth twitching.

"Well, you have to admit it's pretty funny," I giggled through my tears of hysterics. "Did you really, Chris?"

"Yep!" Chris stood up now, apparently aware that the momentary threat had passed. "I did it alllll by myself."

"I'll get you back," JC promised.

"I was getting you back for what you and Justin did to me," Chris protested.

"Yeah, okay." JC gave Chris a final scathing look before reaching for my hand. "Come here, you."

As I moved into his embrace, shivers of giggles still trembling through my body, Chris took the opportunity to slip past us. Down the hall he darted, yelling, "JC and Karyn, sitting in a tree--"

"Goon." JC said dismissively of Chris, then smiled down at me. "Hi."

"Hi, yourself." I fought the tremors in my ribs, feeling them stem not from laughter now but from the intensity of his eyes and embrace. Behind us, Lonnie coughed, and, a little guiltily, we stepped apart.

"Thanks, Lonnie," JC said. Reaching for my suitcase, he took my hand in his free one and led me down the hall to my room.

"It seems like it's been three years since the last time I saw you," I commented as he unlocked the door with a keycard, then held it open for me.

"I know, it's crazy how the time has dragged. Everything's either flying by at the speed of light or going as slow as molasses." He brought my suitcase in while I dropped my purse on the bureau, then retreated to the bed to sit down. As he sat next to me, I felt a wave of soothing warmth ease me; my nervousness began to relax into comfort at his presence.

"Ditto here," I said. "I did find a job -- oh, I told you that yesterday."

"Yeah, but you didn't say where or anything. What are you doing?"

I filled him in on some of the details I'd received from the manager who had hired me; I'd be working evenings at Longworth's, a local restaurant with a classy atmosphere. The manager had introduced me to some of the other servers, who seemed friendly and nice enough, and the fact that they seemed to enjoy what they were doing helped sell me on the place, too.

"I'm sure you'll be making mass money in no time," JC told me. "It sounds like a nice place."

"Yeah, it's the kind of place people go for prom night or for special occasions. So that means big tips. I think it'll be fun."

"Maybe we can go there if we get up in that area on the next part of the tour. Think you could swing us a discount?" he chuckled, his eyes gleaming.

"What, you can't afford dinner?" I teased him.

"It's not that, it's just--" He was interrupted by a loud pounding at the door. I raised an eyebrow at him; obligingly -- but with, I should note, a look of some dismay -- he got up and went to see who it was.

Somehow, I was unsurprised to see Chris and Joey at the door. They piled in atop each other, laughing at the growl JC gave them. "Geez," he groaned, "can't you give me five minutes alone with my girlfriend?"

"Nope," Joey laughed. Pushing past JC, he held his arms out and cried, "Karyn!"

"Joey!" I hopped up from the bed and give him a hug; he squeezed me tightly until I pretended to wheeze for air, then released me. Looking up at him, I had to do a double-take. "What happened to your hair?"

"Ehh, I got tired of it," he said. One hand went, self-consciously, to his newly-short, uniformly brown hair, a drastic change from the red-dyed mop he'd been sporting during our last visit. "It was getting too long."

"I like it," I said, giving him a critical once-around. "It's a good change. You had the red for long enough."

Chris darted past Joey to hug me. "You didn't even say hi to me before," he accused, a dire look in his eyes.

"Maybe it was because you were too busy using me for a human shield," I laughed.

"Oh, that reminds me -- did you find out if JC's going commando now?" Chris asked.

JC's face began to turn an interesting shade of red at that, and from the warmth of my own face, I was sure that I probably nicely matched my hair. Chris laughed delightedly at our reactions.

"Don't you have some email to answer or something?" JC growled.

"No, but Johnny's done with his conference call and he needs to talk to us again," Joey said, in an innocent tone.

"Oh, thanks for telling me." JC's tone was sarcastic as he glared at Joey; then he turned towards me, apology in his eyes. "We have some stuff to go over with Johnny -- do you mind?"

"No, 'course not." I gave him a smile and turned to my bag. "I'll be here."

He smiled back at me -- I caught it as I glanced toward him, wanting to watch them go -- before he led Chris and Joey out the door, conscientiously catching it so that it wouldn't slam shut.

Alone in the room, I abandoned my initial thought of unpacking and proceeded to collapse on the bed. I was a little tired from the drive -- not to mention the fact that I hadn't slept much at all last night due to excitement about seeing JC today -- and I knew that the guys would probably be up half the night, so I wanted to get some sleep in anticipation of the evening ahead.

I took a moment first to call my mother, letting her know that I'd arrived safely and without incident. That out of the way, I gave Carrie a quick call, wanting to share the underwear incident with her. After reassuring her that I'd tell Lance to call her, I hung up, rolled over, and fell asleep.

A few hours later, the guys were knocking on my door again. Fortunately, I'd awoken about half an hour earlier, and used the time to freshen up and catch a little television in the meantime. When I opened the door for them, four male bodies tumbled in; only Justin wasn't among them, and I raised a curious eyebrow at JC.

"Where's the curly one?"

"Date," he said succinctly, before Chris jumped on his back.

"Oh, that's right." I raised an eyebrow, watching as JC flung Chris to the bed. Joey was cracking up about something; Lance took the opportunity to give me a hug of greeting.

"How are you?" he asked me.

I chuckled. "Just as good as I was the last time I saw you. Have you called Carrie? It's not like she was, you know, bugging me or anything..."

"I just talked to her this afternoon," he replied, grinning. "She made me promise that we would all behave around you."

I pouted at that, and Chris called out, "I didn't promise!"

"No, but I know where you're ticklish," I told him. He promptly curled up in a ball on the bed, one arm covering a tender side. Though part of me took this as a challenge, I really wanted nothing more than to lean into the embrace JC was offering. "So what's up for tonight?"

He shrugged. "Don't know. We didn't really make plans, but we have to be up early tomorrow, so I'm thinking clubbing's out."

"Yeah, I think so too," Joey agreed. He was looking through my room-service menu, as if it somehow contained a different selection from the one in his own room.

"We could have scooter races," Chris suggested.

"Scooter races!" Joey leapt up, abandoning the menu in his haste to dart out and grab a scooter; Chris went right behind him.

I giggled. "Won't they get someone upset?"

"Nah, we do this all the time." Lance peered out the door, the look on his face suggesting that he was calculating whether the hall was wide enough for three to race. "We'll have to do it in heats, two at a time. Karyn, you in?"

"Sure," I said. "But if I fall, I'm suing."

We didn't get much of a chance to race, though; before too long, Johnny leaned out of his hotel room and asked us to stop. His tone was polite, but I noticed a hint of frustration in his eyes that suggested a long, aggrieved sufferance at the guys' antics. Acceding to his request, we returned to my hotel room -- my suggestion, since it was probably the cleanest of all of our rooms -- and ordered room service and pay-per-view movies.

Not that the movies themselves were watched very much; it was more the principle of the idea than anything, I think. The usual wrestling and goofiness went on, with the usual mock complaints of "Hey! I'm trying to watch this!" from whichever guy happened to not be participating at the moment; then Chris engaged me in a discussion about his clothing line, which somehow led into us talking off to the side about an old girlfriend with whom he'd recently reconnected. Apparently he was really into the idea of hooking back up with Victoria, and wanted some recommendations from me on how best to woo her.

As the hour grew late, the guys gradually started moving out of my room and back to their own, yawning and thanking me. I'm not sure why, mind you, but I wasn't going to question them. JC was the last to leave, and the most reluctant. We finished the last movie (don't ask me what it was, I'll be damned if I can remember now), and he reached over from the bed on which we were both lying to grab the remote and shut off the television. That accomplished, he rolled over on his back and pulled me into his arms.

"What?" I asked.

"Nothing, I just wanted to hold you."

I could understand that sentiment. It had been fun, hanging with the others, but it seemed like we rarely had any private time even in the rare moments we were actually together. "You know," I commented, my thoughts spilling over into words, "it's really sad that we've been in this relationship for what, four months? And yet we've only seen each other for maybe a handful of days, and in that time we've been alone together maybe twice or three times."

He nodded, one hand moving slowly up and down my back. "Yeah, I know. Now you know why we don't tend to have girlfriends a lot."

"Not that we'd hear about it even if you did, cause you guys keep it under wraps, right?" I said this casually, but I felt his hand go still for a moment on my back. Turning my head, I looked up at his eyes.

"Actually, it's--" He paused, as if searching for words, and his gaze became distant, thoughtful. "It's not that we keep it under wraps per se. We had an agreement when we were with TransCon that any personal relationships we had would be kept private. I mean, going out on dates was hellish, even more so than you'd expect -- because not only did we have to, you know, try and hide ourselves so that we didn't get discovered by fans, but we also had to try and hide it from the press... or anyone else. Once one fan finds out about something..."

"Everyone knows," I finished, nodding. The Internet was both a boon and a curse in that aspect. "But things got out anyway -- like Lance and Danielle Fishel..."

"Yeah, and because we didn't take an official stance on it, the rumors went from that they were casually dating to that they were picking out curtains. And the reality falls somewhere in the middle, but no one seems to care about the reality."

I raised an eyebrow at that, sympathetic. "So what's changing?"

"Well, we're having this press conference tomorrow. Because -- and this is the weirdest part... Apparently Abbey -- she works for Jive, and her boss told her that she can't go out with any of us because it'll be this big problem with publicity, blah blah, she'll lose her job or something. So Justin's taking it as an opportunity to set the record straight about our dating policy."

"Really." It seemed a bit extreme to me, but Justin could do anything he put his mind to, I didn't doubt. "So is that going to affect me and Carrie and Lindsey?"

"I'm not sure." JC's eyes, intense with honesty and worry, met mine. "It's your call. If you want me to tell them who you are, I will. Otherwise, I'd rather keep you out of the spotlight."

"Tell them you're involved with someone, but not who?" I asked. He nodded, and I shrugged. "Sure, sounds good to me. I'd probably hog all of your camera time anyway."

He chuckled, hugging me close for a moment. "Okay. I can't guarantee that someone won't find out, but--"

"Well, it's not like... I mean, how serious are we?" I asked, fighting to keep my tone light. "Yeah, we're boyfriend-girlfriend, but..."

"I... yeah," he said, after a moment. "We have time to, you know, explore our options."

The silence after that was sudden and heavy, and I felt abruptly awkward. It had been a bad time to bring the topic up; I'd give anything to take back what I'd said.

JC bent his head towards me, and instinctively I turned my face up to meet him in a kiss. I did my best to forget about my concerns, pressing against him, one hand running through his soft, fine hair, losing myself in the moment. His hands caressed my back -- fingertips gentle, then applying a deeper pressure, massaging little whimpers out of me. Before long, the only thing that I could think about him was how good the kissing was, and how I wished it could go on forever.

Unfortunately, JC, breathing heavy, pulled back after a few intense minutes. "Maybe I should go," he said; his voice, husky and charged, sent a thrill through me.

"Not yet," I pleaded. "Come on, we've hardly seen each other yet."

He raised an eyebrow at me, and I chuckled. "Okay, inappropriate in context. I know. But... I was really enjoying that."

"So was I," he said. I didn't have to glance downward to know what he meant. "I'm just worried that if I stay, something will happen that we might not be ready for."

My heart fell a little, I'll admit; but at the same time, I felt glad that he was worried about how that kind of physical intimacy might impact our relationship. "I guess. But not yet, please? Stay a little longer."

He sighed softly; I tugged at the back of his neck, urging him back down to me, and he gave a short, wry chuckle before slipping his arms around my waist again. "All right. Just... not too long. I do have an early morning."

That was right; they had the press conference in the morning. "All right," I agreed, and with no more discussion, he began kissing me again.

I woke early the next morning, from vague, unsettling dreams. Despite the sense of unease that lingered, I felt my heart leap when I rolled over and saw that the morning was early yet. I'd have time to get a shower and some breakfast before the press conference; plus, I still had the rest of the day to hang with the guys, not to mention tomorrow. My time seemed golden, an immensely precious treasure.

As I grabbed towels in the bathroom, I heard a yell from the hall. Curious, I peeked outside just in time to see a man race down the corridor, Justin -- clad only in a towel -- in hot pursuit. At any other time, the scene might have been funny; but, glancing in the opposite direction, I saw Abbey looking out from another door. A look of fear and worry darkened her face, about which her hair lay wet and sleek, and somehow I knew that whatever had just transpired was serious.

Soberly, I showered, dressed, made sure my security badge was in place, and headed downstairs to the restaurant for breakfast. JC and Chris were already there, as well as various members of the crew -- I recognized some of them from Indianapolis -- and other hotel patrons.

JC waved me over, and I slid into the booth next to him. He gave me a kiss in greeting; I smiled against his lips. "Morning."

"Hey, what about me?" Chris demanded.

I leaned over and patted him on the head, chuckling, "Good morning, Chris." He affected a pout as I opened my menu and started looking through it.

"Did you see the excitement this morning?" JC asked.

"Yep," I nodded. "Quite a sight, too. Shame I didn't have my camera, I could have made a lot of money making some Justin fans very happy."

Chris snorted at that. "Trust me, we have more incriminating evidence than that. Not that it's ever going to see the light of day--"

Not really wanting to hear about said evidence, I turned to JC. "So what happened?"

He sighed. "I'm not sure of the exact details. Apparently someone dressed as a hotel employee got onto our floor, and somehow managed to take some pictures of Justin and Abbey. Unfortunately, he made it out of the hotel before security could grab him, and since they didn't get a clear description of him, he's long gone now."

"Oh." The implications of that were not lost on me; everything from the security breach to the fact that Justin and Abbey had shared a room, maybe even a shower -- and suddenly I didn't feel very hungry. When the waiter arrived, I asked for only a grapefruit and water, then observed the guys order large breakfasts.

"How can you eat at a time like this?" I asked.

"Keeps me from being nervous." JC slipped an arm around my shoulder, squeezing me close. Thinking of the press conference, I shuddered a little, and huddled into his embrace.

"It'll be okay." He kissed the top of my head, and I hoped that he was right.

Johnny personally gave me a seat at the press conference, putting me next to Lonnie. I watched the reporters, armed with cameras, videocameras, and various other recording devices, all of them with the same intensely focused look in their eyes, and was thoroughly glad that I wasn't the subject of their inquiry.

Soon enough, the guys arrived, led by Johnny. As they sat down at a long table on one side of the room, the murmur of conversation died down. Johnny leaned forward, testing his microphone, and then settled a small sheaf of papers before him.

As he began to speak, I watched the guys' expressions, trying to see them through detached eyes instead of my own biased gaze. Justin looked the most upset, though the tension of his face eased when he glanced out at the reporters. Following his gaze, I saw Abbey smiling back at him from behind a camera's viewfinder. He's got it bad, I couldn't help but grin to myself.

Joey seemed upbeat, as if this was just another press conference; so did Chris, jittering in place as usual. JC's eyes flickered between the reporters, Johnny, and me; next to him, Lance's calm reserve was a relief.

"Hello, everyone. The reason we've called this press conference today," Johnny began, his smooth voice immediately dominating all other conversations in the room, "is to make a new statement about certain policies involving the personal lives of the members of 'N Sync..."

As the statement was read, I felt the knot of worry in my stomach begin to unfurl. Everything seemed to be going fine; the world wasn't ending, nor were storms of screaming fans lynching us all. Johnny covered all the points about media invasion of privacy, the band's dating practices, and other salient information, before finishing the statement, as calm as he'd begun it: "'What this does mean is that we no longer intend to carry on practices that are a painful reminder of things we have purposely left behind us. It's another step in the "no strings attached" attitude that we intend to continue to build for the rest of our careers.'"

The questions started in immediately; I was alternately amused and amazed at how quickly one question would springboard a series of more far-reaching ones, as if they were eager to exploit every possibility. Justin took pride in revealing that the girl in the pictures (the pictures? I wondered, before realizing that the illicit photos taken this morning were probably already everywhere) was his girlfriend, with a warmth so intense that I wanted to blush; no doubt remained in my mind now as to whether he and Abbey were lovers.

Then the reporters started asking about a sexual relationship, and Justin started to get hot under the collar; I was relieved to see JC step in and cover for him, but his appraisal of the fact that sex was one of the many factors in a relationship had me flashing back to our discussion last night, with some amusement. Too, I was reminded of parts of my dreams, which -- when not vaguely disquieting -- had been extremely sensual, flavored with desire for JC.

I was brought back to the present by Johnny bringing the session to an abrupt close. As the security guards rose and ushered the press out, I bit my lip. Most of the guys looked upset, with the exception of Chris, who offered, "I thought that went well," into the sudden silence of the room. Joey replied by rolling his eyes, giving a groan, and dropping his head into his folded arms.

A few minutes later, once the media was safely out, Randy came back and ushered us back upstairs. JC told me that they had a radio interview scheduled, so they'd be out for an hour or so; he apologized to me, but I shook my head, smiling. "Your adoring public awaits," I told him.

"They may not be so adoring after this," he sighed.

"You're really worried about it?"

"Well, yeah." He dropped into a chair -- we had gone back to my room, to await the summons for the interview -- and ran a hand through his hair. "Let's face it, a lot of our fan base is young girls who like to fantasize."

"Yeah, but you'd be surprised how many people don't care about your love lives, or support you regardless. Heck, even when Justin and Britney were going out, they may have hated Britney, but they didn't stop loving you guys," I noted.

He nodded. "Yeah, that's true. I guess I worry more about the impact on you, your privacy, that sort of thing."

"Me? I'm nobody important." I grabbed a pillow and laid down on the bed, propping up on my stomach and elbows with the pillow under my chin.

"You are to me," he smiled, and I blushed at the warmth of that simple expression. "But too, if people find out about you, they'll want to know who you are, what got us together, you know."

"I guess." I couldn't fathom it for now, but I imagined it might make sense later on. "But there's not really a lot to tell about me, anyway."

I'd left the door's latch popped to prevent it from closing, so that visitors could wander in; just then, Justin did, glancing at the two of us. "Hey, Johnny told me to tell you the interview's off," he reported. His eyes were clouded.

"Really?" JC seemed surprised at this. "Did he say why?"

"No, I don't know what's up. Anyway, I gotta go talk to Abbey." He headed out of the room again, leaving me tossing a confused look at JC.

"What's up with him?"

"Not sure." JC glanced at the door through which Justin had just departed. "He was kind of tense this morning, but, you know, I thought it might just be the press conference."

"Hmm." I sighed, rolled over on the bed. "Shame. Well, since you're free now, can we do something?"

"We have soundcheck in a couple hours, but I guess we're free 'til then."

After some debate, we decided to play videogames on the Playstation hooked up in his room, as Chris was working on some stuff for his clothing line and would -- hopefully -- be too busy to bother us. We passed a couple of fun hours that way, before JC had to be dragged off for soundcheck. He told me that one of the staff would make sure I got to the venue and in place, and with a last kiss, he took off.

I kept myself busy by channel-surfing in my room, talking to Carrie for a little bit, and getting ready for the show. At one point I ran down the hall to get a pop from the machine, and nearly ran into Abbey; she was hauling a suitcase and some camera cases with her. A definite distraught look in her eyes kept me from approaching her; watching her head toward the elevators, I wondered what was up. _None of my business_ , I told myself, and continued to the vending area.

Eventually, I was collected by Johnny himself. A little awed, still, I kept fairly quiet on the drive over to the stadium, though I couldn't stop fidgeting with excitement at the show I was about to see. I had seen 'N Sync on their last tour, but I knew that this one was ten times more spectacular; plus, hell, they were my favorite group, so give me a break.

Johnny seemed amused at me; he asked a few polite questions, as if sounding me out, but kept to himself for the most part -- especially as his cellphone rang at least every two seconds. Soon enough, we arrived at the stadium; driving in through a side entrance, we were hardly noticed by the fans streaming into the venue. Johnny left me in the hands of a stagehand, who directed me to the meet 'n' greet area; the guys were signing autographs, posing for pictures, and fielding questions from a group of fans who'd been lucky enough to win passes and such for the occasion.

I slipped into the room, staying off to the side, wanting only to witness the enthusiasm and excitement radiating from the young women -- and men -- in the room. JC glanced over as I came in; he flashed me a quick, discreet smile, then returned to the autograph he was signing. Aware of some curious eyes on me, I found a chair and sank into it to wait and watch.

As always, the guys were in their element, goofing off and teasing each other and the fans. I had yet to see a moment that Chris couldn't turn into a joke; if he hadn't gone into this, I thought, he should have been a stand-up comic. Too soon for the fans, the guys were escorted back out -- Steve, Joey's brother, grabbing me to follow them -- and ushered off to the toy room.

While they began changing into their costumes, I sat down at the drumkit to let Joey lead me through a few riffs. I wasn't very good at it, but it was fun, and we were all laughing at my ineptness before long. Then Randy came in to regretfully inform me that the guys had to get ready in private, and that he would be taking me out to the VIP box. I gave JC a quick hug and kiss, a bit sad that I had to leave but well aware that they needed their time to prepare for the show, and followed Randy out through a series of long corridors to the stadium's floor.

The place was incredibly loud, the voices of thousands of fans all talking at once creating a gigantic murmur that seemed to ripple in waves. The music -- the Rolling Stones, I thought -- only added to the noise level, and I reached into my purse, fingering my earplugs, not really wanting to have my ears burned out when the screaming started. Pink and Innosense had already played, and now the banner displaying 'N Sync's faces -- the picture from the "Bye Bye Bye" single -- was the only thing hiding the stage from view.

I didn't have long to wait, either; the walk down here had taken up a good amount of time, so I only sat for maybe ten or fifteen minutes before the lights darkened and the banner dropped, revealing the sleek stage and the band already in place, prominent before an arch that ran over them and towards the back (upstage, I remembered from a theater class in high school). Then the music started, and I forgot everything else.

"So how did you like it?"

"I loved it!" I declared, giggling.

Freshly-showered, his hair still damp, JC reached past me for the comb I'd left on the nightstand. "Really?" His eyes were electric, still alive from the energy of the show.

"Oh yeah. You guys are amazing! It was a million times better than the last show. No, a billion! The whole thing with the _Mystery Science Theater_ riff in the middle, and the way you were making fun of Lance -- and oh my God, the dancing, it was incredible!" A full hour after the show, I was still having trouble coming up with the right words to describe the experience. To say that I'd loved it would be putting it mildly.

"I'm glad," JC said, and his smile was gentle and tender, melting, as he ran the comb through his hair. He'd come back here directly following their return from the stadium, another set of clothes over one arm, and given me a tight hug before asking me if he could use my shower. Bemused, I had nodded, not questioning it for the moment.

"So, uh, what's going on?" I asked gingerly.

He seemed to deflate a little at that, as if reality was intruding unhappily. "Well," he said, "it seems that Abbey was taken off the tour."

"Wha--huh?!" I gasped, utterly surprised. "Why? How?"

"Michaela, who's her roommate, was there -- I guess Abbey and Justin had some kind of fight about the thing this morning, and then after he left, she got a call from her boss saying that she's been reassigned. And that she had to leave right then, or she'd be fired." JC winced a little, and I guessed that emotions had been running high when this news had been imparted.

"When did she -- oh!" I put a hand to my mouth, remembering. "Shit! I saw her in the hall, and I didn't know -- oh my God, I should have said something to stop her."

"It's -- it's okay, it's not your fault," he said, reassuringly. "I guess she didn't realize that she could have just stayed with us. Johnny would hire her in a second."

"She probably wasn't thinking straight," I mused. "When did you find out?"

"Justin saw at the show that she wasn't in the pit." He stood up, depositing the comb on the nightstand again, and walked around the bed, looking slightly antsy. "But we didn't find out until Michaela caught us afterwards."

"He's got to be upset." I thought about the brilliant smile he'd worn during the press conference, whenever his eyes had contacted hers, and gave an inward wince.

JC nodded, the expression in his eyes suggesting just how upset Justin was at this particular moment. "Yeah. Chris is talking him down now."

"Ah." Chris seemed an odd choice for that sort of support, but I knew how close he and Justin were. Thinking of how Justin had so swiftly lost Abbey made me shiver a little, and instinctively, I looked up at JC as if to reassure myself of his presence. "Come here," I said softly.

He did so, sitting down next to me. Without conscious thought, I slid my arms around his waist, resting my head on his shoulder. I felt better with him holding me, but at the same time, I wanted more. Tilting my head up, I kissed him. At first he seemed distant, though he responded to my kisses; then something seemed to spark, and suddenly I was laying on my back, JC resting firmly above me, one knee between mine, his tongue deep and delicious in my mouth. I writhed beneath him, running my fingers through the short, fine hairs at his nape, feeling the tiny moans and whimpers come out of me instinctively.

As the kiss came to an end, he brushed some strands of hair back from my forehead, gazing down at me with liquid eyes so dark as to almost be black. I could see myriad emotions racing through him: desire, need, regret and confusion -- but before I could begin to question them, he gave me a short, tender kiss, then gently backed off.

Standing up, he headed for the door. My entire front felt cool, abandoned, without him to cover me. Stranded, I sat up, forcing my brain to work again.

"JC?" I asked.

He paused to look at me, his face now full of apology. "I'm -- I'm sorry. That wasn't a good idea. I'll let you get some sleep." His eyes cast downward for a moment, then he approached the door again, reaching for the latch.

"JC..."

He turned at the door, looking back at me. My heart hurt to see the lost look on his face. I thought to myself that I'd never realized until now how much I loved him, because now I thought I'd die if he left.

"Don't go," I heard myself say.

His eyes narrowed a little, as if he wasn't quite sure what to make of my words.

"What are you saying, Karyn?"

His hand was still on the doorknob. Fidgeting, I fought the nervous impulses wracking my body. "I want you to stay here. With me. Tonight."

It might not have been the most eloquent of requests, but it had its desired effect. JC turned from the door, came over to me. Sitting next to me on the bed, he cupped my face with one gentle, long-fingered hand.

"Are you sure?"

I nodded. I knew full well how close we'd come just minutes earlier, and if he stayed-- But I didn't care. I wanted it. Wanted him. If this was the last night I'd see him for several months, I wanted it to be memorable.

But he didn't do anything, not right away; just looked at me, his fingers light and tremulous on the side of my face, as if he were waiting for a sign. When I couldn't stand it any longer, I forced myself to take the initiative. Getting on my knees on the bed, I put my arms around his shoulders and kissed him with all the love and lust and desperation that had been building in me for four solid months.

JC responded equally to my intense kisses, his arms hard as iron bars around me, one hand up in the back of my hair. That was all it took us to get where we'd been before. In no time he'd laid me back on the bed and was undoing my blouse with one hand, his long fingers teasing each button out from its buttonhole. He rained kisses over my cheeks, grazing my temples, nibbling my earlobes, tasting my neck; as if each part of me was a sample of a rich banquet and he intended to try every offering.

Once my shirt was off, I wrapped my arms around him and pushed him gently, so that he rolled to his back. "My turn," I grinned, straddling his hips. I could already feel a hardening warmth beneath me, and just knowing that I was its cause made me go weak in the knees -- and wet elsewhere. I unbuttoned his silk shirt, got it off of him, and then pulled the undershirt out of his jeans' waistband. Slipping my fingers beneath the cotton, I pushed the shirt up slowly to expose his skin. He was hot to the touch, the muscles taut and unyielding under my spread palms.

Oh, the look in his eyes as I divested him of his shirt: half-lidded and lazy, his blue eyes shone with a sultry luster that made me gulp for air. The powerful look of desire, lust -- and love... I felt weak-limbed, watery-boned, and deliciously naughty all at once. Giving into the last of these, I ground my pelvis down on his, rubbing against his erection; its throbbing heat echoed in me, seemed to reverberate all the way out to my fingertips and down to my toes.

I could see the effect in his face, too, in the way he bit his lip, narrowed his eyes as if in pain. His hands came up to touch me, palms sliding over my stomach, my sides, then up to caress my breasts. Already hard, the nipples stood to pebble-hard attention now, and his thumbs flicking over them sent a shuddering spasm through my whole body.

"You're beautiful," he said, and his voice was hoarse, husky. I didn't know what to say to that -- "You are, too," was truthful but trite -- but as I mumbled a thanks, his hand slipped around to my back to find and release the bra snaps. I moved to help, but he was quick and efficient (and truthfully, one part of me wondered how he'd gained that experience; the rest of me quickly quashed the thought), and in a moment, he'd gently tugged it down my arms and off.

For a moment, I couldn't meet his eyes. Then I forced myself to, and saw in his face worship, adoration, all mixed with the heady desire. His hands brought me down to him; laying atop him, both of us bare from the waist up, I kissed him and felt no shame. This was what I'd wanted, after all; his lips, his mouth, strong and smooth on mine; his tongue in my mouth, mine in his; his musician's hands caressing my body, sending shivers of pure sensation down my back. The friction of my breasts against his chest brought even more heat to my body, though that hardly seemed possible.

We lay on our sides, arms around each other; for a while, we just kissed. Though it sounds simple, it was delicious all the same, and in a way it was good, giving us time to get used to each other physically all over again. I may not have been on new ground, but I wasn't all that experienced in this area, either, and I appreciated that he allowed me the chance to relax and enjoy myself.

I knew when I started getting comfortable, because my hands started to explore him. Oh, his were doing their share of exploring, too -- one had loosely cupped one of my breasts, and the pad of his thumb stroked the nipple, jolting fire through me with each touch. But I'd been wanting to feel his ass in my hands for a while now, and I was happy to learn that it was just as firm and solid as I'd hoped. I couldn't help but squeeze him a couple of times, enjoying the feel.

He chuckled into my mouth. "Grabby."

"I like to go after what I want," I murmured, smiling back at him. Seeing the warmth in his eyes made my heart clench all over again.

"I can see that," he replied. "It's all right. You can touch me."

A part of me wanted to sarcastically thank him for the permission, but there was actually something very sweet about the way he said it; as if I'd been released by his words, I let one hand move to the rock-hard bulge in his jeans. Even muted by the thick denim and the fly's zipper, I could feel a gratifying handful. His face clenched in automatic response to my caresses.

Emboldened by that, I slipped my other arm out from around him and got to work unbuttoning his jeans. It didn't take too long; that task accomplished, I slipped my hand inside the waistband of the boxers he wore beneath, feeling for the first time the silky-smooth hardness of him. His erection throbbed in my hand, filling it and then some; the thought crossed my mind that soon this would be inside me, and I felt a rush of something shimmering white-hot go straight through my brain down to the core of me.

JC whimpered -- I'm not quite sure that's the best way to describe it, but there isn't a better word for that wonderful little nugget of erotic sound that climbed out of him -- as I touched him, letting my hand become accustomed to the feel of him. "You like that?" I murmured, smiling, my eyes focused on his hot erection, all flushed dark with blood, emerging stiff from the vee of parted denim and silk and curly hair.

"More than you can imagine," he managed, gently but firmly removing my hand. I pouted up at him as he urged me to my back.

"Don't pout," he told me. "It's just that it's been kind of a while, and I want to make it last for you."

"Fine, but this doesn't mean I won't get my turn later."

"Gotcha." He leaned over me, his weight supported on one elbow; his other hand roamed lightly over my skin as he resumed kissing me. I snaked my arms around his waist, trying to pull him down to me, disliking the space between us. He resisted, giving me a reproachful smile. When I pouted again at him, he responded by trailing soft kisses down my neck and across my clavicle.

Sensation stirred through me, tingles exciting what seemed like every nerve ending at once. I'd never thought that kissing could make me so crazy with desire, or that the light touch of his fingers on my skin could get me so excited. His fingers moved over my breast, tugging gently at one pebble-hard nipple, before his warm, wet mouth replaced his hand there. My eyes shut involuntarily; I heard myself gasp, the sound ringing in my ears, as a brand-new, liquid fire shot all through me.

"God, that's good," I managed to say.

His smile curved against the curve of my breast. "Good."

He spent quite a while there, his mouth moving from one breast to the other, as if he were letting me become accustomed to his presence -- or as if he were savoring the taste, familiarizing himself with the way the softer underside of my breasts was more sensitive than the upper curve, and the way even the aureoles of my nipples had beaded in tension. Either way, there was a point when the pressure changed, as he shifted a little to accomodate the hand reaching to the opening of my jeans. Not that I was eager or anything, but I squirmed underneath him to help get the fly open that much quicker.

Soon enough, the jeans came off, and his hand danced, fingertips light and teasing, over my thighs and belly. My bare skin tingled at his touch. As his hand slipped into my panties, he paused in the thorough kissing he'd been giving me to look into my eyes, as if making sure that this was what I wanted. I nodded faintly, and his fingers slid through the curls to brush at my opening.

I could feel the surge of wetness as it spread over his fingertips, a throbbing heat that only intensified when one finger slid into me, stroking in slow lazy circles. Without thought, I ground my hips against his hand, moaning deep in my throat. He kissed me again as his finger -- first the one, then a second joining it -- moved within me. His other hand was on one of my breasts, rolling a nipple between thumb and forefinger, and I clutched at his back as his combined efforts sent a thrill of aching need through me.

"God, JC," I murmured; just then, he found my clitoris, and I bit my lip as a deep, throaty moan climbed out of me. "Oh, yeah, that's... oh yeah..." was the best I could manage.

"Are you...?" He ended the fragment of words with an upraising of eyebrows, as his fingers stilled in me for a moment. Divining his meaning, I nodded, somehow finding a smile welling up inside me.

"I want you," I told him, my voice coming out husky and throaty. He didn't wait any longer; shoving his own clothes off, he retrieved his wallet and a foil packet from within it, quickly opening it and sliding the condom on. Then he rested over me again, fitting himself to me naturally; his erection was pressed up against my hot center with a teasing intensity.

The friction of our skin against each other's created an unbearable heat within me; his bare hands, palms stroking me, only stoked the flames. I couldn't wait anymore. I wanted him inside me. Reaching down between us, I wrapped my fingers around his stiff penis -- itself hot, the latex smooth over it, with my index finger just barely brushing in the dark curls surrounding it -- and guided him to my slippery opening.

His eyes were shut tight as, in an instinctive action deeper than thought, he slid into me; I got an impression of stunned ecstacy on his face. Only an impression, though, because the sensation of being slowly filled by his erection sent my head pressing back into the pillow, my own eyes closing: the better to concentrate on the sensual feel of him inside me. He filled the aching void inside me, the emptiness brought to a peak by his hands and mouth, and now his hips pressed hard to my pubis, bone against bone.

For a moment, we held still in that exquisite suspension. My hips were raised to meet him, and I'd wrapped my legs around his back. Then he ground his pelvis into me, and I let out a gasp, surprised at the deliciousness of that sensation.

Almost casually, he let himself slip most of the way out of me. I whimpered when I felt myself go empty again, save for the head of his penis held just inside the opening of my swollen vulva. His mouth quirked in a half-smile -- I saw this, as I'd opened my eyes to give him an angry glare at removing himself from me.

"Something wrong?" he asked, managing to sound casual and almost teasing.

"What do you think you're doing?" I growled at him.

"Ah, is this what you want?" With one slick thrust, he buried himself in me to the hilt. I groaned aloud in a response torn from my heart.

"Oh, God, yes."

His hands slid out to mine, fingers interlocking, as he bore me down, stroke by stroke, into the pleasure, into pure enjoyment of the moment. When he wasn't nuzzling my neck with warm lips, he'd press his face to my shoulder as if overwrought by the moment -- and, under the circumstances, I thoroughly understood. Pulling my hands from his, I wrapped my arms around him, clutching him to me, running my fingers over his bare back. Ankles locked at his waist, I positioned my hips high to allow him all the way into me, and he took advantage of it more with every passing second.

When he leaned up on his elbows for a moment, to look into my eyes, the depth of his dark, passionate gaze gave me chills. Then he closed his eyes, focusing on the task at hand, and I lost myself in the endless rhythm, perfect as nature, primal and more real than anything I'd ever felt...

I felt myself build to a shuddering orgasm moments before he cried aloud; only afterwards, with the sound ringing in my ears, did I realize how loudly I'd been calling. He rolled to his side, gathering me into his arms and chuckling, and I felt myself blush hotly.

The words we murmured to each other were unimportant: mere sounds of comfort and closeness, an undercurrent to the intimacy I felt for him now. Curled into his embrace, my head heavy on his shoulder, I thought that nothing could be better than this moment, and that I couldn't be more in love with him.

Gradually, we drifted to sleep. I don't remember hearing his breathing even out, though his murmured endearments eventually gave way to a deep and peaceful silence broken only by the air conditioning rattling to occasional life. When I did fall asleep, it was with a feeling of perfect harmony: as if all was right with the world.

I woke slowly, rising in a haze of comfortable warmth. A moment's uncertainty regarding my surroundings gave way to understanding when, yawning, I knuckled sleep from my eyes and saw JC asleep beside me. He lay recumbent, his mouth slack; the long clean lines of his face were peaceful in slumber. A faint smile seemed to touch the corners of his mouth, as if in this moment of utter relaxation he was happy beyond words.

His arms were still curled firmly, possessively, around me, and the blankets nested around us like a protective cocoon. I had little desire to leave the delicious security of his embrace, but I was craving a shower desperately. In great reluctance, I disengaged myself from him and slipped out of the bed into the comparative cool of the room. The air conditioning had been at work during the night; my nipples shivered to attention as I darted into the bathroom.

Under the shower's warmth, I felt the achy stretch of muscles gone pleasantly sore from last night's activities. Even now, just thinking of what we'd done -- everything from the intensity of the kissing to the way he felt, hot and hard inside me -- was enough to start me throbbing again. Shivering a little, but not from the cold this time, I finished rinsing and got out of the shower.

As I toweled off, I heard JC's voice from the room outside. He must be awake, then, I thought, and tucked my towel around myself -- and another around my hair -- to go greet him.

JC, dressed in a fluffy white bathrobe, was on the phone, but he gave me a warm smile as I emerged from the bathroom. From the sound of things, he was ordering room service; I paused to lean over him from behind and give him a quick hug, then went to brush my hair out.

Once he was off the phone, JC came over and hauled me back down to the bed where I was sitting. I giggled up at him, pretending to beat him with the brush. "Quit it!"

"Oh, fine, so you don't want to give me a good morning kiss." He grinned down at me, his hair rumpled and tossed. "First I wake up alone in bed, and then--"

"Shut up! I just wanted to take a shower so I wouldn't be all grungy."

"--and then you hog all the hot water and don't leave me any--"

"This is a hotel, you idiot, they don't run out of hot water!"

"--and then you go and spoil my idea for surprising you with room service, and I ought to take you across my knee for that, you hear me?"

My giggles subsided as I looked up at him, my arms going around him easily. "Yeah, I'd like to see you try."

"I could take you." His tone was serious, now, his voice just a little husky.

"Sure you could," I challenged him, my throat gone suddenly dry.

"Yeah..." He dipped his head to kiss me before continuing. "I think I could." Another kiss followed, and within moments I was lost in him again.

I didn't hear the knock on the door signaling room service, but he did; with an almost regretful final kiss, he pulled away from me, gently pulling me back to a sitting position. While I adjusted my towel, which had come mysteriously loose, he went to the door, checking to make sure that the hotel staffer was a legitimate employee before admitting him to the room. The employee -- a guy probably only a couple years younger than me -- glanced up, blushed bright red when he saw me, and stared at the floor, his hands, or the plates he was quickly and deftly arranging. Within a few moments, everything was set, JC had tipped him, and he was mumbling a thanks and backing out of the room.

We ate in a companionable silence; I felt ravenous, and JC was equal in his devouring of everything in sight. Occasionally, his hand, reaching across the table for the coffee decanter or sugar bowl, would brush mine; even the slightest contact sent shivers through me, as if an electric connection met at our every touch.

He leaned back eventually, one hand cupping a coffee mug. "I, uh, I wanted to thank you for last night," he said.

Warmth crept into my cheeks as I smiled at him. "That's really not necessary."

"No, I mean it. I had started to forget how special it can be when it's with someone you really care about."

This time I couldn't come up with anything to say, though my blush grew worse as I tried. JC diverted me by picking up a grape from the fruit plate and holding it up to my mouth.

"Here. You haven't eaten enough."

"I ate a whole omelette," I started to protest, but the sparkling dark look in his eyes deterred me before I could finish. I opened my mouth instead, letting him feed me; then I retaliated with a slice of peach.

As he consumed the sticky piece of fruit, his tongue darted out to lap the juice from my fingers. _Oh, so that's his game_. This time, as he fed me a piece of cantaloupe, I sucked one of his fingers into my mouth along with the fruit. His skin tasted sweet, salty, the texture strange to my tongue. His eyes narrowed at that, becoming lusty and dark all at once, and I almost inhaled the rest of his hand. Carefully, I released him, reaching for another grape.

JC slid closer, one hand stopping mine from further motion. I blinked, confused, at him; he only gave me a smoldering look as he pulled at the towel to free it from where it was wrapped around me. I gave a little gasp, surprised, as my breasts were exposed.

"Let's see where else you taste delicious," he said.

* * *

Once again, the concert was fabulous. Every once in a while, I even noticed it. Though my body was on its feet, dancing to the music, my mind was a million miles away in melancholy thought.

As "Just Got Paid" came to a close, I tried again to focus on the guys. I wanted to fix in my mind the memory of JC as he looked now, vibrant and alive with the vivacious joy of performing. I loved seeing him in his element like this, loved watching him doing something he loved more than anything else. Knowing that I wouldn't see him for several weeks -- at the earliest, and then only if my plans came to fruition -- made the music bittersweet to my ears.

JC gave me a wink before the next song started. I grinned back, hiding my worries for the moment. He didn't need to be worrying about me when he had a stadium full of fans to perform for.

I slipped out of my seat as the final song, "Bye Bye Bye", wound into its big finale. Finding Steve Fatone, who was waiting for me, we made our way back to the waiting buses. JC and I had arranged to meet for a last goodbye there, since the guys had to go straight to Buffalo after the show. We didn't have long to wait; still rubbing themselves with towels, still in their stage clothes, the guys came jogging up, panting and glowing with sweat.

Justin climbed aboard first, a determined look on his face, pausing only to wave to me in his rush. He'd been pissed all day, though his mood had eventually calmed down -- at first, last night, he'd been throwing things in his and Lance's room, and Lance had apparently crashed on the couch in Joey and Steve's room. No doubt he was working on something to get Abbey back; I didn't blame him in the least. Joey jogged up next, Chris at his side. They each gave me hugs, Joey making a point of rubbing me with sweaty hands until I shoved him away, laughing.

Finally, the last of the bodyguards arrived with Lance and JC in tow. "Five minutes," Randy threatened them, and JC nodded, gulping for air. He shone with energy, only slightly muted now. "Hi," he told me.

"Hi," I replied. As he gathered me into his arms, I giggled. "I'm all sweaty."

"So am I." He kissed me, a long, tender kiss that made me ache anew for him. Though we'd spent a good deal of the day in bed -- indeed, I was still sore, but in the most enjoyable of ways -- we hadn't seemed to be able to get enough of each other. Chris had even interrupted us in one of the dressing rooms, although we'd only been making out then. Well, heavily making out, I amended. And if we hadn't been interrupted...

Reluctantly, JC ended the kiss with a small, final sound of regret deep in his throat. "I am going to miss you so much."

"I know. I don't know what I'm going to do without you around. This has been like a dream come true." I hugged him close, pressing my face to his shoulder. The shiny material of his shirt was damp, but I didn't care.

"I'll call you. And you can come down and visit us while we're on the tour break, all of you. We--" He broke off when Randy leaned out of the bus, shouting, "One more minute, Chasez, or we're leaving without you!"

Sighing, I hugged him one last time, then stepped away from him. "It'll be all right. I'll call you tomorrow morning, okay?"

"Okay." He hesitated, as if about to say something else, but only put his hands to my face -- cupping my cheeks, the tips of his long fingers in my hair -- and pressed a kiss to my forehead, another to my lips. "I gotta go. I'll talk to you tomorrow."

"Goodbye!" I called, as he turned and darted into the bus. Through the tinted glass of the window, I could see Chris's face pressed up against the surface; he was making a big-mouthed face, and I giggled at him. Then Joey smushed his face next to Chris, and on the other side, JC appeared, holding a hand up to the glass. The disconsolate set of his eyes made tears rise to mine; I held a hand out in farewell, and then the bus jerked into motion, following the first one out of the building.

"That's my ride," Steve said, gave me a quick hug, and hopped onto the third bus. Alone now, I stood for a moment, arms clutched tightly around myself; then, managing to suppress my tears, I headed back to the parking area of the stadium, where my car waited for me. It had made sense at the time to drive it over separately, so that I wouldn't have to go back to the hotel to fetch it before beginning my drive home, but now I felt strange and lonely.

The sense of standing out increased as I emerged back into the flood of fans exiting the stadium. Most, still hyped on the night, screamed randomly into the air; music pounded from cars already started but not yet able to move from the parking lot, and many of the young female fans babbled excitedly to each other about how hot Justin had looked, how amazing JC had looked, sounded, danced... I seemed to be the only one alone in the crowd, and for a minute I thought that I must stick out like a sore thumb. Then I smirked to myself, thinking that of them all, only I had come over in the company of JC Chasez himself. That was worth walking out to my car alone.

I yawned as I slipped into the car, starting it up and grinning as "I Want You Back" came on the CD player; I'd had the first 'N Sync CD in on the drive over. Singing along with JC's voice, I put the car in gear and moved out of my parking space, getting in line with the other vehicles leaving the stadium. The drive home wouldn't take that long, and then I could collapse in bed and dream about JC all night.

* * *

I talked to JC at least once every day -- usually in the morning, since I worked swing shift at Longworth's, and because that was usually when he was free to chat. From him, I learned that Justin was having no luck in tracking down Abbey; apparently her voicemail at work wasn't getting answered, her home phone number had been changed, and her cell phone had been disconnected. We speculated about whether she was trying to move on from Justin or if more sinister motives were involved. None of it sounded very good, but we at least had the reassurance of our feelings for each other to keep us from getting depressed. I couldn't help but worry about Justin and his smoldering temper, though. What would happen when they got to New York, where Abbey lived?

Work was fun, once I got past the first few days of learning everything. Most of the other employees were around my age, and they seemed to have a lot of camaraderie going. I wasn't the only new person; a guy named Denny started the same day as me, and we bonded over spilled dishes and messed-up orders.

When I wasn't at work, I was at home, trying to get the transfer set up to UCF. Naturally, my mother balked when I first brought up the idea; she wanted me to finish school where I'd begun, and the thought of paying a higher tuition in Florida had her upset for days. She also told me in no uncertain terms what she thought of the fact that I wanted to move further away from her -- and that she thought it was ridiculous for me to want to transfer because of a boy.

After the third argument (laughingly labeled a "discussion") in which I snapped and started yelling back, mostly about the fact that I wanted to transfer primarily because the photography program was much better down there, and that JC's proximity was a secondary concern, things were brought to a screeching halt by my stepfather. To my vast surprise, he stepped in and told my mother that he thought the transfer would do me good -- and if not, it was my mistake to make.

Before long, I was getting transcripts sent down there, ordering paperwork, and arranging a class load. My anticipation at the thought of moving was hard to hide whenever I talked to JC; I wanted so much to tell him what I was planning, but I knew it wouldn't be a surprise then. So I bit my tongue and bided my time, and babbled at Carrie over the Internet every night about the plans that she, too, was making. Her parents had been about as thrilled at the idea as my mother was, but she'd eventually convinced them to allow her to try the school.

At the end of July, JC gave me a jubilant call to tell me that Abbey and Justin had been reunited at last. She'd accepted their invitation to the first of the several sold-out Madison Square Garden shows in New York -- JC sounded positively smug as he told me about how he and Chris had arranged for flowers and a limo for Abbey -- and after the show, Johnny's offer of a job with WEG had been accepted by a shocked Abbey. When I asked, confused, "Doesn't Abbey work for Jive?", JC laughed.

"Not anymore. She quit them last week. Said she gave her boss a hell of a shock."

"I bet," I said softly, picturing the couple in my mind. I could almost see Justin's ecstatic smile, Abbey's warm glow -- the way they'd looked at each other that day at the press conference, so in love with each other. "They're lucky."

"They are." JC sighed a little. "I miss you, baby. Are you going to come to Florida?"

The question threw me off, derailing me into thoughts of the transfer. "Wh-what do you mean?"

"You know, we have the next two months off the road. We still have to do a lot of promo stuff but there's also a lot of time planned just to relax. Please come down."

 _Oh, that. Duh, Karyn, you're so paranoid you're going to spill the whole thing without even realizing_. "Y-yeah, I'd love to. I've been dying to see you again." It occurred to me that while I was there, I could probably steal some time to scout an apartment for Carrie and myself. Something furnished, so we wouldn't have to cart or buy a lot of stuff--

"You still there, hon?"

I flushed, glad he couldn't see me. "Yeah, sorry. I just got to thinking. I'll have to ask for the time off at work. Let me know when as soon as you can, okay? I don't know if I can spare more than a few days, they might get mad."

"Screw 'em. I want to see you." The determination in his voice made my throat stop up for a moment.

"I miss you so much," I finally managed to say.

"I miss you, too." He paused then, a hand apparently covering the receiver as muted shouting sounded in the background; then he spoke again. "Sorry, sweetie. They're going out, so I have to run. I'll call you, okay?"

"Okay. T-take care." After his heartfelt goodbye, I hung up the phone, chuckling a little. My hands were trembling. _Cutting it close there, girl_. But soon, soon... it wouldn't be long now until we were back together, a month at the most, and then I'd be able to tell him in person what I'd been sure of for months now: that I loved him, was in love with him, never wanted to be apart from him again.

The preparations continued apace with only one note to spoil the fun: Lindsey wasn't transferring. For the first time in two years, our little friendship would be split by distance. I had known Lindsey for three years myself, and I was in no way looking forward to spending a minute of time without her; aside from spring breaks, Christmas breaks, and summers, the two of us -- three, when we'd met Carrie -- had never been apart. She'd been the voice of sanity for me in times of crisis, and I'd been able to provoke her into having more of a social life, more fun outside school. In all honesty, I wasn't sure what I'd do without her around. But she'd refused to go, citing the fact that she was too far into the psych program at IU; her parents wouldn't have the funds to pay the tuition on a different, more expensive school, due to the fact that she had several younger brothers and sisters; and besides, she wasn't as attached to Joey as Carrie and I were to our respective boyfriends.

So it was with a genuine pang that I got into an airplane in mid-August and buckled in for a flight to Florida, to see the love of my life -- and, while I was there, discreetly scout for a two-bedroom furnished apartment instead of a three-bedroom. I still wasn't sure exactly how I'd get away with that; maybe I'd have to ask one of the guys to help me, let him in on the surprise. But could I trust Chris with it? Or Justin? Maybe Abbey would help me, I thought; she's moving into her own apartment down there, JC had said.

Such thoughts occupied me throughout the otherwise inconsequential flight to Orlando. I tried to distract myself with a couple of magazines, but with no success. Eventually, I just gave up and propped my chin on my hand, staring out the window at the wing and the carpet of clouds beyond. JC had said he'd meet me in the airport, probably with one of the others and maybe his mom or dad. I had to admit that I was having nervous quivers about meeting his folks, too; that was kind of a serious thing, the parental introduction. What if they didn't like me? What if they didn't approve? Scenarios ending in JC being forbidden to see me again -- regardless of the fact that he was twenty-four years old and owned his own house -- danced through my head.

Finally, the plane touched down at the Orlando airport. I dallied in the plane until most of the other passengers had left, getting my bag out of the overhead apartment, tucking my purse over a shoulder; when the aisleway was clear at last, I ducked out and headed up the corridor. Remembering the last time I'd flown down here, I smiled; we'd been so excited, heady with anticipation of the Spring Break weekend ahead of us, all jittery with plans and schemes and a whole seven days of freedom.

"Karyn!" I heard JC's voice call as I emerged from the security door into the terminal. He was standing just beyond the roped-off line, two male figures behind him; if he hadn't called, I probably wouldn't have recognized him, as he was wearing a baseball cap, baggy shorts, sunglasses -- not at all as sharply dressed as usual. Behind him, one of the men grinned, and I realized that it was Joey. That must be his dad, I thought of the other man, even as JC came up to hug me tightly.

His embrace brought me back to sudden reality, and I sank into him with a deep relief. Feeling his arms around me made me remember how lonely the nights had been since Cleveland, and how wonderful his embrace always made me feel. "Ah, God, it's so good to see you," I murmured into his t-shirt.

He said nothing for a few moments, only rocking me gently in his arms. Then, pulling back, he gave me a soft, short kiss. "I missed you," he said, smiling down at me. I could see his eyes, warm and happy, behind the glasses' non-reflective surface, and a tingle of pure joy ran all the way through me.

"Come on," he said, tucking my hand into his. "Joey and my dad came to meet you."

"I see," I nodded.

Joey came up to give me a warm hug, and I giggled at him. "Geez, Joe, Lindsey's gonna get jealous," I chuckled.

"She'll deal," he replied, though an odd light touched his eyes for just a moment.

"Dad," JC said, "I want you to meet Karyn." The formal way he said it suggested that the elder Chasez was already well aware of my status -- as if our clasped hands could suggest anything else.

"I'm honored to meet you, Mr. Chasez," I said, bobbing my head nervously. I could feel my palm sweating in JC's hand; he gave it a little squeeze.

"It's nice to meet you, too, Karyn," he replied. "JC has told me a lot about you. I was hoping we'd finally get to be introduced to this goddess on earth." His eyes were twinkling; I felt a sense of relief, hearing the humorous tone in his voice.

"Oh, please, don't tell me he's been lying about me again," I said with a dramatic eye-roll.

"Just good things, honest," JC put in.

"Why don't we go get your bags?" Joey suggested, apparently having noticed that we were beginning to draw looks. Amiably, I agreed, and we headed towards baggage claim.

With my small travel suitcase claimed, we were soon in JC's BMW and out on the highway. Though I'd tried to defer, Joey and Mr. Chasez both insisted on giving me the passenger seat -- probably the first and last time Joey had managed to not call shotgun, I mused to myself with a smile.

"We're going over to my parents' for dinner, if that's cool," JC said over the radio. "Are you hungry?"

"Ravenous," I said, and bit back the next comment that wanted to come out of my mouth -- but food sounds good too. It would hardly do to make innuendo-laden remarks in front of JC's father. Joey hopped into the conversation, offering a to-die-for recipe for lasagna, and I leaned back in the bucket seat to watch JC as he drove.

His eyes were intent on the road, focused in a deep blue gaze. I loved the way he would give all of himself over to whatever he was doing at the moment, sparing none of his concentration -- whether it was driving or dancing or making love, he had a single-minded intensity that drove me wild. One of the things I'd been looking forward to most on this trip was being reunited in his bed. Suddenly the thought that I'd have to wait until after dinner to fall into his arms was a tragedy too great to bear. I considered reaching over and squeezing his knee or thigh, then ruefully gave the thought up. There was no way his father wouldn't see that. Though Mr. Chasez seemed like a great guy, I definitely didn't want to ruin that first good impression.

Oh, but God, I wanted JC so badly I could almost taste it. That too-brief kiss in the airport had been delicious, such a lovely reminder of his taste and smell and touch. How long until we can get away from his parents'? _Well, however long it is, it's too damn long. Please, God, let dinner be over quickly_.

* * *

"So then Denny slips again, I'm howling, Susan's crying stuff about workmen's comp, and all I can think is that I'm not even going to make it out of the restaurant alive!"

JC's parents laughed as I wound up the anecdote I'd been telling them about a recent incident at work. Joey was grinning, too, over a forkful of noodles, and JC just smiled at me, loving warmth in his eyes. I was seriously wondering why I'd been so worried about dinner, about meeting his parents; both of them were sweet and pleasant, and utterly welcoming -- as if they honestly enjoyed my presence. Tyler and Heather seemed like good kids, too, easy to get along with. As the night had worn on, I'd felt myself relaxing more in their kitchen than I usually was in my own home. The feeling both amused and bothered me. Is this what having a family is really supposed to be like?

Finally, Joey pushed away from the table, declaring that he was completely full. When Mrs. Chasez offered him dessert, he looked mournful, but declined. "I have to get going. Thanks for dinner, it was amazing."

"Why don't you all go into the familyroom?" JC's mother suggested, reaching for some plates. Manners coming to the fore, I got up to help her clean up as the others stood.

"Oh, you don't have to," she started to say, but I shook my head. "I'm glad to help."

She directed me to pile the dishes into the sink, then ran some soapy water over them. "Nice thing about dishwashers," she said, and I chuckled.

"I know what you mean. I'm always loving the one at my parents' house, especially when I go back to our apartment."

"So you're into photography?" she asked, moving back to the table for another round of dirty glasses and silverware. "Oh, just bring the food over here."

"Yes, that's what I'm majoring in." Following her instructions, I balanced a couple of bowls on my arms over to a counter. "I'm hoping to get into music photography, although I know it's not an easy field to get into."

"Ahh." Mrs. Chasez paused at the sink, giving me a scrutinizing look. "That would be convenient, all things considered."

My face flushed. "Oh, no, that's not -- I didn't mean -- that's--" I gulped for air as she chuckled. "I definitely wouldn't even think of doing anything like that," I managed.

"I was pretty sure of it, but I still have to check. You understand." Smiling, she put a last few dishes in the sink, and I sighed in relief. I did understand, and could appreciate her fierce, motherly instincts. No doubt there had been many girls who had purported to date JC out of interest in him, when they'd really only been interested in his money or connections.

We headed back into the familyroom, where we'd hung out prior to dinner; JC's father was telling the kids that they had homework to do, so they'd best beat it upstairs. Despite his protestations that he really had to leave right now, Joey seemed content to relax on the sofa for a few minutes. Naturally, he'd sat down next to JC. With a groan, I walked over and squeezed myself between them.

"Excuse me, Fatone, you're in my seat," I told him.

"I don't see your name on it," he shot back.

"I thought you were leaving."

"Oh, so you want to be alone with your honey," he chuckled, giving me one of his innuendo-laden smiles. When JC's father coughed, Joey's smile turned into a smirk. "And his parents. I get it. I'm going."

"See you later, man." JC gave Joey a quick hand-slap as the latter stood; then Joey formally thanked them for the meal and headed out, while I briefly pondered what the plural of Chasez was -- Chasezs, Chasex?

"He never passes up free food, does he?" I asked, giggling, once he'd gone. JC shook his head.

"Are you kidding? This is Joey we're talking about here."

The conversation turned back to me -- not that I was really surprised, since I had figured his parents would want to know more about me. I did my best to stay sweet and charming, though after a while I was beginning to think that my mouth would freeze into a permanent smile. JC, noticing this, finally made excuses for us -- that we had had plans to meet the guys at a local club, and they'd be expecting us soon.

As we headed out to the car, I noticed JC looking at me. "What?" I asked.

"Oh, I just -- I was hoping you enjoyed yourself," he said. His eyes were dark in the twilight atmosphere.

"I did." I smiled, remembering the spontaneous hug Heather had given me after dinner. She seemed the very epitome of "cute kid sister". "Your family's much cooler than mine."

He chuckled, unlocking the car. "Well, we have our moments. But yeah, generally they're great. I wouldn't trade 'em for anything."

"Do you ever wonder about your natural parents?" The question slipped out before I could stop it; as I looked over the roof of the car at him, I realized that it had been indelicate. "I'm sorry. You don't have to answer that."

JC opened the door, popping the lock for me. "No, it's okay," he replied as we got into the car. "It's just a question I get asked a lot, usually right after people find out I'm adopted. Mostly--" He paused, concentrating on getting the car out of the driveway before finishing his thought. "Mostly it's not really something I ever wanted to do. I mean, I've always known I was adopted, and it never bothered me or anything. I guess the only reason I'd want to find out anything would be for a medical history, things like that."

"That makes sense," I said. I envied him that total comfort in his own home, his evident love for his adoptive parents. "It's kind of funny; I actually used to wish I was adopted, and one day my real parents would come and find me, tell me it was a horrible mistake..." I trailed off uncomfortably, his silence making me wonder if I was giving out too much information.

But he only shrugged. "I can understand that. Probably everyone has to wish they belonged to another family, once in a while."

"Did you ever wonder what they were like?"

"Sometimes, yeah, I guess. You know, like I'd look at myself in the mirror and wonder if my nose looked like my father's, or if I had my mother's eyes. And it didn't really help that Tyler and Heather both look so much like Mom and Dad. But, well, I love my parents, and I'm glad they chose me. I figure I got really lucky with them."

"You did," I said appreciatively.

"Besides," he added with a laconic shrug, "if I went looking for them now, I'd probably have a million people crawling out of the woodwork claiming to be my biological parents. It'd probably be more trouble than it's worth."

Before too long, we'd arrived at his house. Like Lance's, as I recalled from our last trip, JC's place also had a security fence -- much like the other houses in the neighborhood, whose residents no doubt equally valued their privacy. The driveway curved along a tree-filled lawn to deliver us before a comfortable-looking two-story house. "Here we are, Casa Chasez," he said, cutting the motor.

"It's very nice," I said. Actually, while I was attempting to make small talk about the house, all I could think of was the fact that we'd be alone in there in just a few minutes, with no interruptions and no demands on our time.

"I wish I got to spend more time here than I do, but as it is, I have to have people come and clean it up, you know, mow the lawn and stuff. I'm hoping to spend some time next month on it before we head back out on the road, in between all the publicity and planning and stuff."

"Are you guys really getting ready to work on the next record?" I asked, unable to contain my curiosity, as we retrieved my suitcase from the trunk and headed into the house. "I mean, I read about it on a couple of websites, but it seems strange to me-"

"We are and we aren't." JC dropped his keys on an end table just inside the door, hitting the lights to illuminate a foyer from which the stairs stretched upward. "Mainly what we're doing is getting started on writing, picking songs, and doing demos and stuff. But we are in the pre-planning stages, sort of."

"And the movie?"

He chuckled. "You came all the way down here to see me and you want to know about the movie?"

I flushed, leaning back against the doorjamb. "Sorry. I promise I won't ask again."

"No, it's all right." The amusement in his eyes faded a little. "By the way, who's Denny again?"

Confused, I floundered for a moment. "Denny? Oh -- from dinner. I told you, he's just a guy I work with. He started on the same day as me, so since everyone else kind of has their little cliques, we hang out together." I blinked at him.

"And you... just hang out with him."

The tone in JC's voice should have warned me, but I didn't understand his line of questioning at all. "Yeah. Hang out on breaks, in between customers. We look out for each other. He's a nice guy."

"That's all he is, right?" His voice went a little darker, and I looked up at him, surprised.

"Yes, JC, that's all he is. What, do you think I'm--" My own voice started to rise in tone, just a little.

He shook his head. Cutting me off, he reached for my hand. "No, I don't think that. I'm sorry. It's just -- the way you were talking about him, it's hard to hear you talk like that about another guy." He heaved a sigh. "Come on."

Grabbing my suitcase, he led me up the stairs. I shook my head, confused, and followed.

I'd gotten a glimpse, downstairs, of sparse furnishing, a few paintings on walls, others stacked against baseboards awaiting hanging. The hallway upstairs was similarly outfitted, but the bedroom was more finished. JC flicked on the lights, revealing a bed which dominated the room. A dresser of the same dark, shiny wood was the only other furniture; I could see a door leading, presumably, to a bathroom, and another -- a double door, really -- of glass, which seemed to open to a balcony.

"I know it's not much," he said, setting down my suitcase, "but like I said, I never have any time, and..." He glanced at me, self-effacing now. "I hope I'm not presuming anything here."

"Uhm, no, it's fine," I commented, restraining a smile. "But just so we're clear, you're sorry about the thing before?"

He scrubbed a hand through his hair. _Starting to get long_ , I thought, and idly wondered what he'd look like with even longer hair. The image was decidedly appealing. "Yeah," he said, softly. "I am. I'm sorry. I didn't mean to accuse you like that. It's just, it's hard, you know? I hate having to think about the fact that he gets to see you all the time and hear you laugh and watch you work, and I don't."

I thought my heart would burst. "Oh, God, JC, I wish it didn't have to be like this."

In a couple of steps, he'd crossed the room and pulled me into his arms, in an embrace that I wished could last forever. When he kissed me, it was with a sudden, powerful urgency, and I pushed away all thoughts of accusation, of anything but how wonderful his kiss was -- especially after a good month and a half of going without his touch.

We had made it to the bed, sharing long, slow kisses (JC wanted it to be slow, since we had all night, and I certainly wasn't going to deny him), when the phone rang.

Instinctively, I pulled away, ever attentive to the sound of a phone. JC shook his head, burying his hand in my hair again. "Machine'll get it," he said, drawing me back to him.

"Good point," I murmured against his lips. After a couple more rings, the answering machine did indeed pick up, and from downstairs, I heard a familiar voice sounding distantly. It seemed to be Chris, although I couldn't make out the exact words he was saying.

"What do you think he wants?" I asked.

JC shrugged, one hand wandering under my shirt, rucking the cotton upwards to reveal my back and midriff. "Probably to go out or something. They were talking about getting together, but I figured you might want to stay in instead."

"At least for a while." My chuckle turned into a throaty moan when his fingers found one of my stiff nipples, pressing against the fabric of my bra. "Maybe later, we could... meet them or something."

"Later," he said firmly.

His touch excited me, thrilled me. I found myself climbing over him, peeling his shirt off of him, wanting to feel him naked against me.

The phone rang again. I gave a mock-groan into JC's ear. "He certainly is persistent."

"He's retarded," JC replied, reaching for the receiver. "Hello."

I rolled off of him, hearing Chris's voice, tinny, in the phone. "Chris, we're busy," JC said. His hand remained firmly on my back, sliding under my bra, trailing fire in its wake. "No, we -- no, Chris, I'm not going to tell you that. No. Fuck you."

I began to giggle at that. "We might as well go, or he'll bug us all night," I pointed out ruefully.

JC sighed and nodded, his eyes mournful as they met mine. "All right, we're coming. Five minutes. No, we're leaving in five. Just wait, Kirkpatrick. Just wait." Chris's laughter sounded out as JC replaced the receiver on its base. He curled me into his arms again for a momentary embrace, then released me.

"I'm sorry," he said. "You know how he is."

"I do. It's cool. Besides," and I climbed over him again, running my hands over his bare chest, "this way I get to dance with you, and rub against you, and kiss you in public..."

He gave a shuddering sigh. "Let's go get ready."

* * *

It didn't take us long to prepare for the club. I changed, quickly, into clothes I'd brought in anticipation of just such an event -- shiny metallic jeans and a matching halter top -- and did my makeup in the hall bathroom while he changed.

"Ready?" he asked, coming to the open door. He whistled, and I blushed as I turned to look at him.

"Just about," I replied. He'd gone for a casual, laid-back look: khaki pants, clunky boots, a zipped-up leather vest that showed off his muscled arms. The vest's scooped collar revealed a single herringbone chain that laid enticingly over the hollow of his throat in addition to his ever-present Leo medallion. I promptly took back everything I'd ever said about him not having any fashion sense. "Oh, baby, do we have to go out? I changed my mind."

The phone rang, as if on cue. JC gave a laugh. "We'll go for five minutes. Then I promise you can have your wicked way with me."

If only he knew how ready I was to do just that. I finished applying lipstick and tossed the tube, closed, into my purse. "All right. Let's go." I pouted at him, and he chuckled at me as we headed downstairs.

The drive to the club was blessedly short; I left my hand resting on his thigh after pointing at something that had struck my eye, just so I could enjoy the pleasure of touching him. He didn't seem to object. Though it was early yet, a long line of club-goers snaked around the building and down the sidewalk. Once we'd parked, he led me around to the back of the club, where a huge bouncer guarded the VIP entrance.

JC spoke to the bouncer, and in a few moments, we were being admitted into the club. A wave of music and flashing lights flooded out, blinding me for a second. JC gripped my hand firmly in his, apparently sure of our destination; I stumbled after him, trying to let my senses adjust to the high-impact input of sparkling lights and pounding rhythms.

Then we had reached the roped-off VIP area. The others were already there, a raucous shout going up when they saw us approach. I recognized Abbey, seated by Justin, their hands glued together, and figured that the dark-haired Japanese woman with Chris must be the infamous Victoria.

"Karyn!" Joey leapt up to give me a hug. I laughed at him.

"Get off me, goofball, you just saw me two hours ago."

"Oh yeah." He grinned and released me. Chris and Justin took their turns next, and then I glanced around, having counted to four. "Where's Lance?"

"Getting drinks," Justin replied.

"Ah. Hey, Abbey," I called, giving her a wave. She smiled back as JC pulled me down into his lap.

"Karyn, this is Victoria," Chris said, or rather shouted over the music. Giggling, I nodded at her.

"Nice to meet you."

"You too." She seemed nervous, but her smile was sweet and appeared genuine.

Lance appeared a few moments later, distributing drinks to everyone; once he was done, he gave me a hug, then grabbed my hand and pulled me out to the dance floor. JC didn't seem to mind, so I shrugged and went along with him.

"I just wanted to make JC jealous," he told me, grinning, when we started dancing.

I laughed. "Doesn't seem to be working."

"Yeah, I guess not. So how you been?"

"Pretty good. Better now."

"That's good."

As we made small talk, I glanced over at JC from time to time. He was talking to Chris and Victoria now; Justin and Abbey caught my eye, dancing together nearby. They were so cute it wasn't even funny. Joey eluded my vision for a moment before I caught sight of him dancing with a tall brunette. He seemed to have no trouble finding a variety of dance partners. With a mental wince, I hoped he wouldn't be too upset that Lindsey wasn't moving down here. My gaze trailed back to JC, and I felt myself smile goofily at the sight of him.

"Oh, go on," I heard Lance say in my ear.

"Huh?" I blinked up at him.

"You've been staring for five minutes. I should have known better than to try and talk to you tonight."

I grinned at Lance, squeezing his hand, then headed back to the roped-off area. JC smiled up at me as I sat down, putting my arms around him.

"Want a drink?" he asked.

"Water," I replied. He gave me a kiss, long and sweet, until Chris started yelling something about coming up for oxygen; then he got up to get my water.

"You guys are so cute together," Victoria offered.

I chuckled. "Thanks. So are you." She blushed at that, pressing her hands to her cheeks.

"Oh, we're not a couple," Chris said, making quotation-mark signs with his fingers for the word 'couple'.

"Could have fooled me," I grinned.

"No, really, we're not. We did used to go out a long time ago," Victoria began to explain.

"Back before the Earth's crust cooled," Chris put in. Victoria poked him in the side; he rolled over, a look of wounded agony on his face.

"Really? Did you know him when he was in the High-Tones?" I asked, fangirl curiosity rising.

Victoria giggled, nodding. "In fact, I have pictures--"

"Okay, you know what, this isn't funny anymore," Chris started to say.

Just then, JC returned, looking distinctly disturbed. Handing me a glass of water topped with a lemon twist, he said, "Sorry I took so long," and dropped into the seat next to mine.

"What's wrong, baby?" I asked.

JC shook his head, an unhappy look twisting his mouth into a sour expression. "Nothing," he said. "Just -- nothing."

"Uh, no, not nothing." I put my drink down and reached for his hands. "Tell me what happened."

"I don't -- that's not such a good idea," he said. "It's all right. I'm fine."

"JC," I said warningly.

"Oh, JC!" Chris gasped, leaping to the seat on JC's other side and grabbing him in a headlock. JC made a half-hearted attempt to shove Chris away.

"Some girl was hitting on me at the bar," JC said, ignoring Chris, who rested his head on JC's shoulder and pretended to snore.

I raised an eyebrow at him, wondering if he was bothered because he thought it might upset me. "So? You know I get hit on about eighty times a day at work, right?"

JC's eyes met mine; I was taken aback by the disturbed look roiling there. "I know, hon," he said softly. I had to lean closer to hear him. "It's just... she was being aggressive. It just bugged me, I guess."

"Do you want to go?" I asked, worried. I knew it took a lot to upset him, and it had to have been bad, considering he'd undoubtedly been propositioned a million times and in a million ways by now.

JC nodded, sighing. "I'm sorry," he said as he stood, pitching Chris easily off of him. "I wanted you to have fun..."

"It's okay," I said firmly, meaning it. "We'll go home, relax... cuddle..."

I heard Victoria break out in giggles again, and decided that I didn't want to know. "Night, you two," I called over my shoulder. JC chuckled and waved to them.

As we moved across the club to the same door by which we'd entered, Justin and Abbey caught up with us. "You guys leavin'?" Justin asked.

JC nodded. "We'll be back at my place if you need us."

"Please don't need us," I added, and they laughed.

"Hey, Karyn," Abbey said. "I was wondering -- the guys have an interview tomorrow morning. You want to go shopping?"

I nodded at her, surprised -- albeit in a good way -- by her offer. Then something occurred to me, and I tugged at her hand, pulling her aside.

"Hey, would you mind -- you kind of know the area, right?" I asked, keeping my voice down. Not that that was a difficult task in the ambient noise of the club.

She nodded, looking confused. "A little, why?"

I glanced at the guys, who were talking to each other about something, then leaned close so she could hear me. "I need to find an apartment down here, for me and Carrie. I thought maybe you could help me look?"

Abbey blinked at me, shrugged. "Sure, why not?"

"Okay. Great." I grinned at her. "Just don't tell Justin, okay? It's going to be a surprise for JC and Lance."

"All right," Abbey said, smiling hesitantly. I was hoping, too, that this could maybe be a bonding thing for us -- no reason for us not to be friends, since we had the shared link of the guys.

"Hey -- that's enough, now--" Justin's voice interrupted our scheming. I looked over at the guys. A woman I didn't recognize, a short blonde, pretty enough, was holding JC's hand. Rather, she appeared to have him in a death grip, and no amount of yanking on his part was doing any good.

"Let me go, my girlfriend's right there!" he protested.

"Honey, what's wrong?" I asked, slipping an arm around his waist. My appearance had the desired effect: she dropped his hand as if she'd been burned.

"Oh," she said in a stung voice. "So this is the whore you're two-timing me with."

"Whore--?!" I started to say.

Justin reached for the woman's shoulders. "Miss, I'm sure this is just a misunder--"

"No!" She shook herself out of his grip. "Leave me alone, Justin, this isn't about you for a change--"

She came at me, and suddenly my cheek was stinging. JC pulled at me, pulled me back, and someone was shouting; a security guy appeared behind the woman; then we were outside, humid August air swirling around us and JC was holding me, just holding me.

I shook for a while in his arms. At some point I coughed, and realized that my throat hurt. _Must have been me yelling_ , I thought dimly.

"Are you okay?" JC asked.

"I -- I think so," I said softly. The adrenaline was pumping through me now, as if my body had only just realized the severity of the situation. "What about you, a-are you all right?"

"Yeah, I'm good." He hugged me tight to him again. "I thought you were going to kill that girl."

I laughed weakly. "I wanted to. God, how dare she touch you like that..." My fury began to ebb as his hand rubbed soothingly over my back, easing the negative emotions that had been prickling at my skin.

"Let's go home, huh? Put all that energy to better use," he suggested.

"Sounds like a plan."

The ride back to JC's house was quiet, filled only with soft jazz idling gently from the radio. I leaned back in the seat, my hand on his thigh again, feeling the warmth of him through the thin fabric.

"Did you know her?" I asked, mildly curious, as we got to his street.

"Hm?" He glanced at me, one eyebrow raised. "Her who? Oh, the chick from the club? No, I'd never seen her before."

"So just a random psycho," I said.

He shrugged. "Seems so. That was what really bothered me. She kept talking to me like she knew me, like we had a history or something. And you heard how she was talking to Justin. Creeped me out."

"Yeah, no kidding." I rubbed his hard thigh, reassured somewhat.

We pulled up in the driveway and he killed the engine. A sudden silence replaced the noise of the Jeep, quickly filled by the softer sounds of night insects and animals.

I leaned towards JC, suddenly wanting to feel him close to me. He turned to me at the same moment, and we met in an abrupt kiss. His hands slid into my hair, dislodging the style into which it had been hastily pinned, while his tongue, warm and sweet, pressed into my mouth. A thrill ran through me -- the awareness that we had all night together, with no further interruptions -- and I pressed as close to him as I could, in the confines of the Jeep. Tugged at the zipper of his vest, wanting to feel his naked skin.

He broke off with a shuddering breath. "Let's go inside," he suggested. "Before the neighbors hear."

Though I wanted to question that -- neighbors? the houses had to be miles apart, here -- I had to agree that it would be easier to get close inside. Hurriedly, I clambered out of the Jeep, grabbed my purse, and came around to his side of the car.

He pulled me close again, pressing me against the Jeep's door. His cologne seemed to enflame my senses; I couldn't get enough of his taste, his touch. Somehow we stumbled to the front door. Half-drunk on each other as we were, it took him a couple tries to unlock the door. He pushed it open roughly. Inside, I leaned back against the door, pushing it shut, and crooked my finger at him.

My purse fell to the floor as he stalked towards me, resembling nothing more than a great cat, a strangely reverential expression in his eyes. He touched me -- his hand brushing my cheek, thumb smoothing my lip -- before sliding fingers down my arms to cup my waist. Pulled me against him. His lips were hot and smooth against mine, tongue finding mine, tasting me deep. I writhed against him, pushing my hands into his hair, threading through silken strands; his erection burned hard at my hip.

For a fleeting moment I thought, with regret, of how far away the bedroom was. Then he picked me up, as easily as if he'd been doing it forever -- his arms around my waist, my legs wrapping instinctively round his hips, bringing his erection into instant and gratifying alignment with me -- and carried me into the living room and the overstuffed couch there.

JC laid me down, but didn't join me right away; he knelt on the couch, just looking at me, for a few long moments. I reached for him, pouting, and he laid down, comfortable and warm atop me.

"God, I missed this," I breathed.

"Me too." He laid kisses on my lips, down my jaw, shivering on my neck. His hands found the ties to my halter, undoing them, revealing my bra and removing that too. At the same time I unzipped his vest, slipped my hands inside to feel the heat of his skin, of his taut muscles.

We kissed, embraced, touched, with a fevered urgency heightened by not only our months-long separation, but also by the forced chastity of the past few hours. Yes, I missed him, missed being with him, but God, I'd longed for this, too: his tongue, hot and rasping on my nipples, scraping sensation from the undersides of my breasts, raw and urgent down my torso, and his vest was off now, his hands easily making short work of my jeans -- I raised my hips so he could slide them off, and my panties as well.

JC began to kiss his way up my thighs at a maddening, leisurely pace. I shivered, forced myself to relax, knowing that I could trust him, that I had to trust him. No one had ever done this for me before; some part of me was glad that he was my first in this. Then his breath blew over me, his tongue and lips moving in ways I'd never imagined, and the world dissolved, fractured into shimmering moments of pure delight.

After, I took a long, shaking breath and reached for him. He still had his pants on, but it didn't seem obscene in the least for me to be curled naked to him.

"Hot damn," I murmured. He chuckled against my temple. "No, I mean it. We need to clone you and rent you out. That was really fucking amazing, okay?"

"Okay," he agreed. He shifted a little to get more comfortable on the couch, and his erection pressed up against my thigh again.

"Oh, now, what's this?" I couldn't resist reaching out, feeling him for myself. He sucked in a little breath as I rubbed him through the cloth. "Missed this, too," I said, half to myself. Getting his pants undone was a little tricky from my position, but I was determined, and it wasn't long before I slid my hand into the warmth of his boxers, and felt him, stiff and hard and silky-smooth, in my hand.

Taking a deep breath, I moved out from under him, urging him to his back. My hand stayed on his erection, stroking him slowly the whole time. He looked positively decadent beneath me, his hair disheveled, cheeks flushed, eyes deep sapphire and smoky with lust. His chest was bare and his nipples erect, and his pants were spread open to reveal the thick, hard dick rising eager from its nest of wiry dark hair.

I moved over him, tucking myself between his splayed legs, and began to kiss him. As I pressed kisses to his neck, licking and nibbling at his collarbone, at the hollow of his throat, I could feel the blazing heat of his erection pushing at my lower abdomen and, as I moved further down, my breasts. I stroked his chest, lavishing wet rakes of my tongue over his pebbly nipples. He answered with a deeply-indrawn breath and a mumble of "Oh, God."

"Good?" I whispered, smiling against his skin. Not waiting for an answer, I kept moving downward. My tongue danced over the hard planes of his abdomen, the tense muscles, prominent ridges of bone; I even dipped into his navel just to hear his sudden, surprised laughter.

Heat close to my chin warned me; I paused, looking up at him across his chest. He'd propped his head on a pillow, warmth and love -- and hot desire -- filling his eyes. "You don't have to," he said, as if maybe thinking that my hesitation was due to nerves.

"No, I want to," I said, and took him in my mouth. His gasp was a beautiful thing. I slid my tongue around him, getting used to the feel of this strange sensation, this hard, curved cock in my mouth. Turgid fullness, strange slickness: it seemed both utterly alien and perfectly familiar to taste him, slide my lips along his length, flash my tongue over the tip. I felt almost as if I were worshiping him, kneeling before him like this, and wondered if he'd felt the same way with me.

Though I'd never gone down on a guy before, some things seemed instinctive; certainly the half-gasps and guttural groans he gave, as I licked carefully around the sensitive head and along the underside, gave me an idea that I was doing well. Slipping my mouth down over him to take as much of him in as I could, I tasted salty pre-come and swallowed it instinctively; wondered if that was what his come would taste like and if I could handle that, too.

But he stayed me, pulling me back before I could find out. His fist loosened in my hair; looking up, I saw him breathing hard, all red around his neck.

"Jesus, that was good," he breathed.

"I don't have to stop--" I began, but he shook his head.

"No, I -- I want to be in you."

I couldn't argue with that, so I waited, kneeling, on the couch, while he dug his wallet from his pants and produced what I liked to call the "emergency condom". I took it from him, pushing him to his back again; unwrapping it, I slid it on, unrolling it over his erection. Holding him in one hand, I moved over him, straddled his hips, and slid him home.

Ah, that first moment of joining; sudden, exquisite fullness, a delicious vulgarity -- _oh God, he's inside me_ \-- my head rolled back as I groaned, unable to contain my delight. JC's hips pressed up into me as I ground down on him, pelvic bone meeting pubis -- he found my clitoris with two capable fingers, and sent new shockwaves of ecstasy through me.

His other hand rested on my hip, lazy, thumb moving over the skin of my abdomen. Again I moved on him, settling into a sure rhythm. Letting him slip almost out of me -- then, empty and yearning to be filled again, pushing down until not a breath of air separated us.

His cock slipped out of me once; caught in the rhythm, I pushed down against him, the hard length of his erection on my vulva and clitoris almost too exciting to bear. Then I moved up and he guided himself back into me, ah, there, ah -- I could feel him all the way up inside me, so deep, so thick... I leaned forward, resting over him, feeling the orgasm start its approach. He moved his free hand to one breast, taking the nipple into his mouth, his tongue slipping roughly over my hard nipple.

It shuddered through me like a tidal wave, sweeping me up and leaving me shaking, fingertips tingling, in its wake. I pressed myself to him, still quaking with tiny aftershocks, laid my face against his shoulder; he took hold of my hips, pushed deeper and harder, and came in a few more thrusts. He groaned my name, the cords taut in his neck. "Ah, God," he murmured into my hair.

"Wow," I replied, in total agreement.

We lay there for a little while, me curled on him, his arms around me, as his softening cock slid out of me; finally, yawning, he poked me.

"Come on. Let's clean up and go upstairs."

The warm lassitude that had crept into me made movement difficult, but I managed to get up. Grabbing my clothes, I followed JC upstairs -- watching his trim ass and giggling to myself about the decadence of walking about naked in my boyfriend's house -- and curled up under the covers while he disposed of the condom.

I could feel myself drifting already, lulled by the afterglow, by the cozy warmth of his bed. JC stirred me awake when he came back and laid down, slipping under the sheets and gathering me into his arms. I curled up against him with a mumble of contentment.

"Sleepy?" he asked. I giggled.

"Yup."

"Okay." He pressed a kiss to my forehead and said something, too quiet for me to hear. I tried to ask him what he'd said, but sleep claimed me before I could muster the energy.

JC woke me up the next morning, gently shaking me until I peeled my eyes open and gave a long-suffering sigh.

"I made breakfast," he announced. He was already dressed, showered, ready for the day. I hate morning people.

"Coffee?" I asked hopefully, noticing now the delicious smells wafting through the house.

"Yes, there is coffee." He chuckled as I groped my way out of the covers.

"Pajamas," I demanded.

"Are they in your suitcase?" he asked. I nodded, and he brought the bag over so I could root for clothing. Once I'd found my favorite soft PJs, I got dressed and followed him.

I felt more awake with the ingestion of coffee and toast, and declared that I was going to take a shower.

"All right," JC said, putting dirty dishes into the dishwasher. "We've got that radio interview today, and Abbey called -- she said you guys are going shopping or something?"

"Yep," I nodded. "Okay, I'll be out in a few."

I luxuriated under the warm water for longer, probably, than I should have; when I emerged, I heard JC chatting amiably with Abbey, their voices distant from downstairs. _Ah, crap_. I dove for clothes just as JC called up to me: "Karyn, Abbey's here!"

"Be right there," I called back. My hair was still wet; no use for it, I put it back in a ponytail to get it out of the way while it dried, then dressed in shorts and a blouse -- wanting to look nice in case I filled out applications today -- and headed downstairs.

Three hours later, I flopped back into Abbey's car, exhausted but grinning. Abbey had come prepared with classified ads and a map, and we'd only gotten lost twice -- "a record for me," she'd chuckled -- as we tooled around the Orlando area. Even more luckily, we'd found a vacancy close to the UCF campus and an owner who'd taken my application on the spot. She'd commented that everything looked good, so the credit check would determine whether we got the apartment; I left JC's number with her, hopeful that I'd hear back before I had to leave on Wednesday.

Since we were close to the campus anyway, Abbey offered to drive me around and take a look at it in person. I was more than amenable.

"So are you happy to be taking this little vacation?" she asked, sometime during the driving tour.

"Yeah," I chuckled. "My co-workers are all massively jealous. Not that they know who my boyfriend is. I had to tell them I'm visiting my grandmother."

"You don't tell people you're going out with JC?" Abbey asked, seeming genuinely surprised.

I smiled. "I'd love to, God -- I'd shout it to the world, but do you know how many people would say I'm flat out crazy? Even my mom thinks I'm completely delusional. No, it's my little secret."

"Huh," Abbey said, thoughtfully. "I don't get that at all."

"Well, you work with them, it's not such a far stretch," I pointed out.

"True." A smile touched her mouth. "My sister, Cat -- she's thirteen, they're her favorite group -- she tells everyone she knows that I'm going out with Justin. Most of her friends either think she's God or a total liar."

I giggled at that. "Who's her favorite?"

"Justin," she said promptly replied, letting out a short laugh. "But I guess she figures if she can't have him, she can live vicariously through me."

I was really starting to like Abbey now, and to see why Justin had been so torn up over her. Obviously, my first impression of her had been way off. But that was okay, I could admit when I'd made a mistake. "Well, we've seen the campus, we found an apartment... maybe we should go shopping, just to maintain appearances?" I suggested.

Abbey glanced at me, eyes twinkling. "Not a bad idea. If you want, we have a shoot later -- you want to come?"

"Sure," I said, grinning.

We spent a couple of relaxing hours at a nearby mall. Abbey admitted that she was actually enjoying looking at clothes and such, a rarity for her. When she let down her guard, it was easy for me to believe that she was my age; most of the time, the way she carried herself, I thought she was about thirty in all but looks.

I enjoyed telling her that I could convert almost anyone into a dedicated shopper, with the possible exception of Chris -- and then only due to his too-short attention span. She laughed.

In the middle of Pier One, Abbey's watch beeped, and she sighed and declared, "Time to go." I gave a last longing look at the candlesticks we'd been admiring -- she was still working on decorating the apartment into which she'd recently moved -- before following her out.

The photo shoot was at a refurbished warehouse in the heart of downtown Orlando, apparently popular for things like this; certainly the parking lot was neater than I'd have expected of an abandoned place. As we pulled in, I saw the guys already present: accompanied by three of the bodyguards, Johnny, and a couple of other people I assumed were assistants or something, they were signing autographs for a small group of fans. God only knew how the girls had found out about the shoot, but they were lucky; due to the fact that their numbers were small, they were receiving an abundant amount of friendly attention. One of them wore an N SUCK cap over which Chris was crowing.

We got out of the car; Abbey handed me camera cases from the trunk. "You're my assistant, if anyone asks," she informed me.

"Hell, I'll be your assistant anyway," I replied with a short laugh. She cocked an eyebrow at me, and I smiled. "I'm a photography major. This is exactly what I want to do."

"Ah, cool. I'll show you the ropes, in that case." She tossed Justin a quick smile; he responded with a nod and a half-smile gone so quick I hardly registered it. The young fan standing by him caught it, though, and her mouth dropped as she apparently recognized Abbey. For her part, Abbey rolled her eyes and beckoned me towards the entrance.

This seemed to be some kind of signal; the guys began wrapping things up, and the guards began herding the crowd gently away. We headed inside, joining Johnny and the assistants, and the guys followed us in a few moments later.

Inside, the warehouse reminded me of a movie set. One section was dusty, fallen beams and debris illuminated by holes in the wall which admitted rich afternoon light from outside. Another part of the place was done up like a Victorian drawing room, couches and settees aligned in a loose, comfortable fashion. The guys headed straight for a makeup area -- unerringly, I thought, probably because they'd done this so many millions of times before. Abbey gestured to me to join her where she was putting her cameras together.

As I helped her, I noticed that the guys were putting their own makeup on. I couldn't tear myself away from the sight of Chris carefully applying eyeliner to Justin. "Maybe I should have Chris do my makeup from now on," I murmured.

Abbey glanced over, then laughed. "Don't even. Chris will give you Clockwork Orange eye stripes or something when you're not looking. He did that to Joe at one shoot and I swear I thought Joey was going to punch his lights out."

Soon enough, everyone was ready and the shoot began. Johnny propped himself in a seat at the makeup area, conferring quietly with a pretty, dark-haired woman, one of the assistants I'd seen earlier, as he went over paperwork.

The boys were professional and focused -- even while goofing off for the camera or when Abbey teased them. I found myself giggling hysterically at them, which only prompted more "performing": not that Abbey was complaining, since this was her bread and butter. After a few rolls of group shots, she broke them up for individual pictures, Chris first. The others lounged with me in the makeup area; Lance was on his laptop as usual. I cackled when I saw that he was instant-messaging with Carrie.

Impulsively, I leaned over his shoulder and typed, before he could stop me, "oh baby you make me so hot!"

Lance went red and growled at me. "Get off!"

"She'll know it's me," I giggled, and moments later, the reply proved me right: "Get Karyn away from the keyboard!"

One by one, the others had their turns before the camera. Chris got bored after approximately two seconds and decided to give me a makeover. Abbey's warning from earlier prominent in my mind, I agreed cautiously. To my surprise, he did a pretty good job; I received a pleasant shock on seeing myself in the mirror, glammed up as if I were about to have a portrait taken.

"You look great," JC's voice murmured in my ear as his arms settled around my shoulders. I smiled at the image of us in the mirror. It looked natural, right.

"Thanks. Chris got bored," I said.

"For a change, I'm not upset with his being bored," JC grinned.

"Hey!"

"Hey, why don't I get some pictures of you two?" Abbey asked, wandering over with a half-loaded camera. "I won't sell 'em or anything. You just look so cute together."

"They do, don't they?" offered Justin, who stood up from a couch to kiss Abbey on the cheek.

I blushed and tried to protest, but it was no use. We were directed to the Victorian set by Abbey, who could be surprisingly forceful when she wanted to be. Though I'd never been shy about having my picture taken, it was definitely unusual to be on the business end of a camera wielded by a professional photographer. Abbey's tone was serious and dry as she suggested ways for us to sit: "Move your chin up, Karyn. Up a little more," and, "JC, turn just a bit. Like that, yeah."

She moved closer to get a few pictures of us looking into each others' eyes -- which felt strange and corny, but would probably look romantic and loving in the pictures. Then JC started tickling me, and Abbey took some shots of that too before ordering us off her couch.

"You're all done except for Justin," she said.

"Saving the best for last." Justin stood again and stretched, revealing his belly button.

"More like the most troublesome," Joey shot back.

I still hadn't stood up, so JC lifted me into the air over his shoulder in a fireman's carry. I shrieked with laughter.

"She just wants to be alone with him," Lance put in, his voice giving the words a seductive lilt.

"Alone in a big dusty warehouse with my girlfriend and Johnny and Melinda and Ash, sounds like a blast. I'm so there." Justin sat down again, flopping his legs wide, his lower lip stuck out in a pout.

"Let's get dinner," JC suggested.

"Italian!" Joey shouted.

"Not that Sal's again, they sucked--" Chris started to argue.

"Buca's better," JC interjected.

"Put me down!" I yelled. Though I couldn't complain about the view, the blood rushing to my head was beginning to make me dizzy. JC ignored me, as if I posed no more disturbance to him than would an errant breeze.

"Buca in half an hour," Joey proclaimed in a voice that brooked no further argument. "Just, Abbey, head over whenever you're done."

"We will," they said simultaneously.

"You owe me a beer," Abbey shot at Justin, who stuck his lower lip out even farther.

"Johnny, you coming?" Lance asked.

The manager declined, stating that his fiancee had dinner planned already. The rest of us tumbled out of the warehouse, where Lonnie, Dre, and Randy remained on duty. JC finally consented to put me down, if only so he could call the restaurant to make sure they'd be able to accomodate us. Once he'd been reassured of that, we piled into cars, accompanied by Lonnie and Dre, and headed out.

Waking up late and languid in bed that next morning, I forgot where I was for a moment. Then faint music, the gentle notes of a piano, anchored me to consciousness. I was alone in bed, sprawled in warm sheets, in JC Chasez's house. In JC's bed. I stretched, feeling blissfully sated and comfortably sore, and got up to shower.

The music had progressed when I got out, evolved from a light, half-stopping melody into full chords. I slid into a pair of comfortable old shorts and a t-shirt and slipped down the stairs, treading lightly to as not to disturb JC.

He sat at the piano, the only piece of furniture in the living room. The bareness of the walls gave the music a lonely echo. He wore jeans, old and faded and worn at the knees, but nothing else; the sight of him half-dressed at the grand piano (or was that a baby grand?) made my mouth water with appreciation.

 _As if we didn't spend half the night_... I didn't finish the thought of what we'd done after coming back from dinner last night. Instead, I sat down on the stairs to watch him.

At some point in his musical meanderings, he sighed and stretched, raising his arms over his head. The muscles in his back rippled beneath his skin. His head turned as he extended one arm, and he smiled when he saw me. "Hey," he said.

"Hi." I didn't get up, comfortable as I was resting my head against the wall of the stairwell, enjoying the view.

"Did I wake you?" he asked.

"Kinda, but it was a good way to wake up."

He got up and came over to me, reaching for my hands. I offered them, and he pulled me up into a warm embrace.

"Mm," I said, and kissed him. "Morning."

"Barely. It's almost noon."

"No kidding. I'm sorry I slept so late."

JC chuckled. "No big. I only got up an hour or so ago myself. Come on, there's coffee."

"What was that you were playing?" I asked as, still holding his hand, I trailed him into the kitchen. He sat on a stool, pouring coffee into a mug.

"Just a thing," he shrugged.

I sat across from him, on a stool set on the opposite side of the ledge bordering the kitchen. Accepting the mug, I raised a curious eyebrow. "Just a thing?" I echoed.

"Well." He fiddled with the power switch for the coffee maker. "I don't know. We got asked to do a song for The Grinch soundtrack, and I wanted to write it--" He paused, as if embarrassed.

" _The Grinch_? Really? That's very cool," I smiled.

"Yeah, it is." I could see his smile, somewhat hesitant, suggesting that he still had the capacity to be blown away by a project like this -- even after all his years in the entertainment industry. "Anyway, when I woke up this morning, I was looking at you and thinking about how nice it's been to have you here. And how lonely I'll be when you leave. The melody was kind of in my head, so..." He shrugged again, decisively flicked the coffee maker off.

I had been sipping at my mug, but I put it down now, overcome with tenderness. Slipping off my stool, I came around the ledge and hugged him. He held me close, arms around me, thighs spread to press me to him. Around us, the house was quiet. When he let go of me, his eyes a little abashed, I hopped up on the stool next to his and reached for my coffee again.

"So what's on the agenda for today?" I asked.

"Not much. I have a little studio time -- I made the appointment before I asked you to come down," he added apologetically.

I shook my head. "It's okay. I could just hang here for a while, until you get back--"

"You could come," he offered, although he didn't look too enthusiastic about the idea. "It's not going to be anything special, just mixing a couple of demos."

"That's all right. I'll probably just be a distraction anyway."

"Yeah, but such a good one." He leaned over and kissed me, coffee and mint on my tongue, and soap and the clean male smell of him permeating my senses. The combination stirred me, and I purred into his mouth, running a hand up his thigh.

"Maybe," he murmured against the sensitive skin of my throat, "we could go back to bed, and the hell with my studio time."

"I like that agenda even better."

Eventually, after a few lazy hours spent upstairs, JC got himself together and left for the studio. He promised to call me at some point, though I assured him I'd be fine and wouldn't get up to anything, and with a last, lingering kiss, he left.

I took the opportunity to explore, seeing all of the house's nooks and crannies for the first time. He'd set up a spare bedroom with keyboards, a guitar, a drumkit and what appeared to be recording equipment. Not bad for a miniature home studio, I thought. The doors in his bedroom did turn out to lead to a balcony, one equipped with wrought-iron chairs to invite relaxation. The view of the pool below made me promise myself to take a dip later.

After I got done looking around, I parked myself in the den, flipping channels on the satellite system. The sound was really nice; I noticed speakers set around the room, guessed he'd gone with surround-sound, and smiled. Boys and their toys. He'd definitely gone all-out, and it was really nice.

Watching TV got old after a while, though -- not that my attention span was ever that great to begin with. I remembered the pool, then realized that I hadn't brought a bathing suit with me. Damn.

Then I grinned to myself, getting up and heading for the linen closet I'd found earlier. With a privacy fence, and the neighboring houses so far away, who needed a swimsuit?

That was where JC discovered me, some time later, though I didn't realize he'd come home until I heard something fall to the concrete patio. I pulled up in the middle of a lap and turned towards the sound, frightened for half a second; then I saw his face, eyes wide, and giggled.

"Hi, honey," I called, wiggling my fingers at him in a child's wave of greeting.

"Hu," he replied. I grinned, swam towards the edge of the pool where I'd dropped my towel.

"This isn't a problem, is it?" I asked, climbing partway out of the water and reaching for the towel. "It's just that I really wanted to swim, and I didn't have my suit with me, is all."

A half-smile began to replace the surprised look on his face. "No, it's fine," he managed. "You just. Wow."

Wrapping the towel around myself, I smiled, both relieved and flattered by his reaction. "Thank you," I said, and came over to kiss him. He gathered me close, heedless of the wetness of my skin and hair, and bent into the kiss, forceful and heated. I felt myself blinking dazedly when he let it end, with a lingering caress of lips on the corner of my mouth.

"Did everything go all right at the studio?" I asked, sitting down in a lounge chair and reaching for my clothes.

"Oh, yeah, it's all fine. I have a demo, if you want to hear it." He produced a CD from a jacket pocket, with a flourish, and I grinned. "Also, oh." He picked up the plastic bag of groceries that had fallen to the concrete, wincing and looking inside to make sure everything was still intact.

"How about you go get changed?" he suggested. "I have something planned."

"Um, okay. I'm gonna wash my hair real quick, get the chlorine out," I said. Already I was burning with curiosity, but he flipped me the CD as I passed him, clothes in hands and towel tucked around me, and I decided I'd have to make do with listening to it while I changed.

I hiked up the volume while washing my hair, so I could hear it in the shower. Afterwards, humming, I changed, delighted by the thought that JC was downstairs working on something special.

"Can I come down yet?" I called down the stairs once I was dressed.

"Ten minutes," he shouted back.

"Please?" I whined, giggling.

"No!" The smile in his voice warmed me, even though it was undertoned with anxiety. I went back to the bedroom, grabbed a magazine, and stretched out on the bed to wait out the alloted time.

I was in the middle of an article on breast cancer when, "Okay!" he called. I hopped up, abandoning the magazine, and bounced barefoot down the stairs.

The lights had been dimmed, and in the fading evening sunlight slipping through the windows, I could see a trail of rose petals scattered down the hallway. Smiling, I followed them -- along with the enticing scent of chicken and herbs -- towards the dining room.

Candlelight sparkled on the table, illuminating dishes, glasses, roses in a crystal centerpiece. I couldn't restrain a tiny whimper of affection at the romantic scene. The food, already laid out, made my stomach rumble in anticipation.

"Do you like it?" JC asked, slipping his arms around my waist to hug me from behind. I leaned back into his welcome warmth.

"It's beautiful. Thank you."

"You might change your mind about that after we eat," he chuckled, kissing my ear.

His self-deprecation to the contrary, however, the food was delicious: chicken garlicky and moist, with cheesy penne pasta and vegetables. I focused on the food, as I hadn't really had anything to eat during the day. JC had poured wine, too, but I only sipped at it: not much of a connoissuer, I found it a little bitter to the taste.

Once we were done eating, I helped him put the dishes in the sink -- flicking water at each other, just for giggles -- and then he took my hand and led me into the den. He'd lit a fire, which might have seemed redundant in the Florida heat, but was actually nice due to the air conditioning that had me shivering a little during dinner. Settling down on the couch, he tugged me down next to him.

"What's up?" I asked.

"Well, I." He touched my face, let his fingers slide down my arm to my hand. "I wanted to talk to you about us."

"Okay." I felt a cold shock of dread begin to settle into my stomach, while my palms broke out in cold sweat. "It's. Uh. Do, uh, do we really have to talk about this right now?"

His face fell a little -- not that he'd looked excited or anything, but now he looked disappointed, making me feel like I'd just kicked a puppy. He forced a smile, though. "I thought girls like to talk about this kind of thing."

I chuckled softly at that, ducking my head. "Well, I'm not exactly a stereotypical girl."

"True." He squeezed my hand. "But, uh, I thought, you know, we've got some time to ourselves -- I mean, every time we see each other we're always running around and stuff -- and I thought it would be a good time to talk."

"Well, yeah." I squirmed a little, unable to deny the logic of that. "It's just weird, I guess. I'm not used to having big relationship talks. I've never really had any at all."

"Really?" He raised his eyebrows, showing a slight look of consternation.

If I'd been mildly uncomfortable before, now I was definitely ill at ease. "Well, yeah. I -- there was a guy, my freshman year, I really thought he loved me. I don't know, maybe he did, but we went out for a year and then he dropped out, went back home, so that was it. And he was, he was my first, my only, up until now." Looking up, I met JC's warm, sympathetic gaze. "But we never had any kind of, you know, talk about it. I -- it never occurred to me."

"Did you love him?" JC asked softly.

I nodded, a little hesitant. "Yeah. I thought I did, anyway. It might not have been real, but it felt like it, then."

"I know the feeling." JC sighed, his thumb rubbing idle circles on the back of my hand. "There was someone I was seeing for a while last year -- when we could, in between everything. But it just -- it got to be too hard to make it work, and then it got to the point where I didn't want to make the effort, so." His eyes were focused on the couch between us, and his voice had gone quiet, tender, somewhat remorseful. "I guess -- I felt bad, because I wanted to give up, and then she broke up with me, and I was angry but I felt relieved, too, you know? Even though I was upset."

I nodded, in sympathy if not empathy. "So you kind of felt guilty?"

"Yeah, a little."

Scooting closer, I put my arms around him. He seemed to need a hug as much as I did right then. After a few moments, he pulled back a little to look at me.

"Promise me something?"

"Sure," I said, blithe.

"If you're -- I don't know -- if you're not feeling good about things, if you feel hurt or whatever, like you think I'm treating you badly or something, promise me you'll tell me? Like, if I haven't done something I said I would, or -- do you know what I mean?"

His eyes were bleak, now, and my heart wrenched in my chest. "Of course, but only if you promise the same thing. It's -- I mean, communication is the most important thing, right?"

"So I've heard. I think trust and honesty are up there, too," but he was smiling now, and that eased the tiny stab of guilt I felt at my remaining secret.

"Well, yeah." _And he'll know in a month_ , I reminded my guilty conscience.

"Okay. Well, in the spirit of communication, I have something for you." JC got up, leaving me puzzled on the couch for a moment. He returned with a small gift-wrapped package in one hand. I stared at him, uncomprehending.

He pressed it into my hand. "Go on, open it."

Tentatively, I picked at the wrapper, a little fearful -- what if he'd gone overboard with some expensive jewelry, or--? My fear was allayed when I opened the box to reveal a slender black cellphone, trim and sleek. I giggled a little as I picked it up, powered it on.

JC's expression relaxed from wary to pleased. "You like it? I have my numbers programmed into it, on speed dial, and yours, too, and everything. The ringer -- here." He pulled his own cellphone out of his pocket, punched a couple of buttons, and the phone in my hand rang out with the melody from the chorus of "This I Promise You". I laughed out loud at that.

"Wow. Thank you."

He shut off his phone as I leaned over to kiss him. It was a long, slow kiss, his hand going into my hair. When it ended, he slipped his other hand around my waist, cradling me close.

"This is. Um." He smiled, self-consciously, and ran a hand through his own hair. "Karyn, I think I'm falling in love with you."

He said more, but I didn't hear it at first over the pounding of my heart in my ears. I must have looked surprised, because his eyes turned concerned.

"Karyn? Are you okay?"

"I -- yeah." I blinked, looking down. "I just wasn't expecting. that. is all."

"Are you mad?" He slid warm fingers under my chin, gently turning my head up.

"No, no, I, I guess I'm a little overwhelmed. I mean," I took a breath, trying to compose myself, "it's not that I -- I mean -- I think I might be falling in love with you, too." A gross understatement, that, but it was at least a little true. "No--" I felt like I was interrupting myself. "I am in love with you. I love you, JC."

His mouth was a little 'o', his eyes bright silver. I put my hands in his hair, pulling him down to kiss me, this time a more passionate embrace. When he carried me up the stairs, with me giggling and shrieking the whole way, I was glad I'd spoken my heart.

* * *

"Well, I don't know about you," Carrie said at last, tossing herself into a chair, "but I'm ready to collapse."

I put the last glasses in the cabinet, then closed the door, glancing around the small kitchen. We'd spent several hours cleaning and organizing, and the results of our labor were finally beginning to show; the apartment was, at last, starting to look livable. Momentarily satisfied, I grabbed my can of Dew and sat down on the couch, sighing.

"Gonna be hurting tomorrow," I grumbled, as Carrie turned on the TV and flipped channels.

"You're the one who wanted to get all the boxes opened today," she pointed out.

I rolled my eyes. "Yeah, well. You know we'd be putting stuff off if we didn't. And now we know where everything is."

"True." Carrie bit her lip, then chuckled; she'd paused on MTV long enough to see that the video for "It's Gonna Be Me" was playing. We watched in relative silence for a few minutes as the guys, dressed as plastic action-figure versions of themselves, tangled with G.I. Joes and flirted with _faux_ Barbies.

"I still can't believe we're here," she said softly, smiling as Lance briefly appeared on the screen. "Can we call them tomorrow? Surprise them?"

"I guess, sure," I said. "We should have the place clean by then."

It had been close to a month since the last time I'd seen JC. After my all-too-brief visit -- punctuated by a ceremony in which 'N Sync was awarded the key to the city by the mayor of Orlando -- I'd been so busy, I'd hardly had time to talk to JC. Between work, getting my credits transferred to UCF, then enrolling in classes and coordinating the move, it felt like a wonder that I'd had time to breathe, these last few weeks.

Organizing the apartment was a vacation, in comparison. In a few days, we'd be starting classes; for right now, at least, we could take a (well-deserved, in my opinion) breather.

The video ended, replaced by another, and Carrie went back to channel-surfing. "I hope they're not mad, like," she said, almost absently, her voice wistful.

I knew what she meant. "Yeah, but I'm sure they won't be. I mean, you love Lance, right? You guys are serious -- you're the real thing."

"Yeah, I guess." She twisted the ring on her finger in a gesture I'd come to recognize as nervous habit. The peridot set in it winked, reminding me of Lance's eyes.

"See, so. It'll be okay. He'll be happy you're here. We've got, like, a whole month before they go on tour again. And then it won't matter where we are, right?"

Carrie nodded, looking down at her hands; then she glanced up at me. "What about you and JC? I mean, y'all are... well--"

"We're official, I mean, boyfriend-girlfriend," I supplied.

"Yeah, but. You didn't really, you haven't spent a whole lot of time together, not for an extended period of time. It's always been, you know -- a few days here, a few days there."

She had a point, one that had been bothering me as well recently. What if JC and I couldn't get along for more than a few days at a time? If we drove each other crazy, I was stuck here with no reason to stay -- except for school, and that a college unfamiliar and potentially scary.

"I'll worry about that when we get there," I finally said, and we deliberately changed the subject after that.

Early the next afternoon, I finally decided that the apartment was ready for its first visitors. We'd gotten Abbey to help -- eager to aid in our little conspiracy, she'd agreed to pick the guys up from the Compound, where they were in a meeting, and drive them over here. Carrie called her, alerting her to our readiness, and after that there was little to do but sit and wait: first the guys would have to get out of their meeting, and then Abbey would grab JC and Lance, tell them whatever story she'd fabricated to get them in the car, and drop them off here.

Soon enough, a car horn honked outside: two blasts in quick succession, the signal we'd agreed on. Carrie peeked behind the curtain, and her gasp was all I needed to hear. I moved to the door, resting a sweaty palm on the knob.

"It'll be okay, it'll be okay," Carrie murmured, echoing the mantra repeating in my own head. _It'll be all right_ , I told myself. _They'll be happy to see us_.

As I was imagining what Abbey might have said to get the guys to come up here, a forceful knock sounded on the door. My heart leapt in my chest, and I swung the door open, revealing the astonished faces of JC and Lance.

"Surprise," I grinned.

"Hey!" JC moved into the room first, his arms closing around me, and he spun me around as he squeezed me to him. Lance pushed past him to stop in front of Carrie; I saw, over JC's shoulder, that Lance's jaw worked soundlessly for a moment before he pulled her into a tight embrace.

"Oh, man, I can't believe how good it is to see you," JC murmured, as I reached past him to shut the door. He cupped my cheek with one hand, thumb brushing the arch of my cheekbone, wiping away an errant tear -- when had that happened? I didn't even realize that I was leaking.

"It's good to see you, too." I gulped, leaned up to kiss him, felt with welcome relief the knot of tension uncurl in my stomach as his lips met mine with equal fervor.

"But -- but what are you doing here?" he asked after a moment, pulling back to glance around. "Whose apartment is this?"

Lance had apparently been about to ask the same question of Carrie, for his raised eyebrows mirrored JC's confused look. She gulped, looking at me.

"It's ours," she said. "We're -- we transferred to UCF. We're going to school here now."

* * *

"Oh my God," JC said for the sixteenth time. I watched him pace around the room, finally pausing, a hand on the shelves, to look out the window. We'd moved into my room to talk, while Lance and Carrie remained out in the living room area; I hoped their conversation was going better than ours.

"I thought you'd be happy," I said, fighting to keep the panicky, pathetic tone out of my voice.

"So you -- you and Carrie -- moved down here, transferred schools, moved halfway across the country -- just to be with us?" He sat down in the chair by the window, one hand's palm flat against his forehead.

 _Well, when he puts it THAT way_... I sighed. "Yeah. But -- I mean -- it isn't just to be with you. The photography school down here is incredible, much better than IU's. And I really had to get further away from my mom."

His eyes were closed, rendering me unable to gauge his reaction. "What about your dad?" he asked.

I sucked in a breath. "I don't know, but my stepdad was okay with it. He's the one who supported me in this, the only reason my mom agreed to it."

JC let out a soft sigh; his hand massaged his forehead, tugging the skin up and down with each scrubbing movement. His face was otherwise immobile, unreadable; I began to feel my stomach sink, my former excitement draining into nausea. This had been a horrible idea after all, it was too soon to assume anything in our relationship, I really had moved here for all the wrong reasons and now he was mad at me -- no -- he hated me and never wanted to see me again.

Overwhelmed by a rush of despair, I didn't realize he'd moved until I felt him pull my hands out of my lap. Then I opened my eyes and saw him crouching before me, his eyes shaded in mute appeal.

"I'm not mad at you, Karyn. Please don't think I am." In direct opposition to his previous difficult-to-read expression, every emotion was now naked in his eyes, in the tentative furrow of his brow and the drawn lines around his mouth. "It's just -- I'm kind of overwhelmed, you know? No one's ever totally uprooted their lives for me before -- I mean, totally picked up and everything, just to be with me. It's a lot, you know?"

"Except for your fans," I couldn't help but quip.

He nodded briefly, acknowledging that. "But this isn't the same thing."

I mumbled confirmation, feeling the impact of his words sink in. I had left everything behind -- possibly burned the bridges of my relationship with my mother forever, left behind one of my best friends -- for him. This wasn't some crazy fling after which life would go back to normal; this was serious, permanent.

He tugged gently at my hands, pulling me towards him; I went into his arms willingly. How long he held me, I'm not sure; but eventually the door opened and I heard Lance admonishing us: "All right, break it up, you two."

Looking over, I saw Carrie leaning into the doorway behind him. Her face shone, eyes as bright as her smile. I couldn't help but notice the dishevelment of her hair; as JC pulled me to my feet, I raised an eyebrow at her, and she blushed rather gratifyingly.

"I really feel sorry for Joey," Lance commented a little later, as we were relaxing in the main room.

JC nodded. "He and Lindsey were really getting along, I thought."

"I thought so too," I said. "I guess she's just more focused on getting through school right now, rather than anything else."

"Are you gonna tell him?" Lance leaned over to address JC, an eyebrow arched.

"I guess I should call him, yeah." At my confused look, he added, "Joey's in Mexico right now, went to someplace called Akumal. He wanted to get away from things."

"Oh, that's right. Lindsey said something about that," Carrie said. "She told me he asked her to go, but she couldn't, she had that last summer class to finish."

"Dude, that sucks," I murmured. I vaguely remembered Carrie mentioning it, but it hadn't really registered, in the flurry of preparations. "Maybe they're, um."

"Yeah." JC squeezed me, tipping my head to his shoulder, and I put my arms around his waist, feeling the need for his comfort. I wanted Lindsey to be happy, first and foremost -- but I'd thought she'd been happy with Joey. But if her priority was school... That led to a disturbing thought, one I quickly pushed away.

"We should celebrate," Lance said. "Go out and eat, maybe we could hit the clubs or something. Give you guys an Orlando welcome."

His cheer was a little forced, but it was nice after the somber mood we'd begun to sink into, and Carrie took the bait, leaning in eagerly to offer her suggestions for where to eat. Soon we were heading out the door, ready to enjoy our first night together in Orlando.

Later, when they dropped us off, JC kissed me, on the lips, then on the tip of my nose. "I'm glad you're here," he said, smiling warmly into my eyes. "I'm glad you came." I believed him.

Once classes started, everything seemed to settle somewhat. Though classes themselves were chaotic, it was a familiar sort of chaos; we might not have been used to the campus, but neither were a lot of freshmen, and I soon learned the quickest routes to zip from one class to the next. And though the faces were strange, I saw similarities in the classrooms, the shape of the buildings, the teaching skills of the TAs and even the graffiti that liberally covered the inside of darkroom doors in the art building. Even the crappy cafeteria food was the same, and after a couple days of it, I declared that I didn't care how much food cost, I was going grocery shopping. Carrie laughed at me, but she went along with it, as disgusted by the mystery meat as I was.

The only thing that truly sucked was that the guys were always busy. Even though they were between legs of the tour, ostensibly to rest, they did anything but. If it wasn't a recording session to bring their voices to the world of The Simpsons, they were jetting off to New York for a week for media teleconferences and parties. I itched with wanting to go, too, but Carrie always, sensibly, reminded me of my classes, and I gave in with bad grace, telling JC I couldn't go when he asked. I did, after all, want to do well, to prove to my mother that the transfer wasn't really just a flimsy excuse to be with JC.

There were some lovely moments, and I spent as many nights as I could with him, though he usually dropped me off back at the apartment at the evening's end, since I had an early-morning Composition class. Still, the art of balancing dates with JC and my heavy classload began to take its toll, and I almost found myself looking forward to the beginning of the tour. It started up again on Chris's birthday, October 17th, so there was a party the weekend before, starting at Benihana's and then migrating to Justin's place, and Carrie and I attended at JC and Lance's insistence. Very odd, it was, to be among their friends and family, people JC had known from years back, and being introduced as his girlfriend -- more than often I got odd looks at this, as if the person I was meeting didn't think much of my chances with him. I put a big smile on my face and did my best to ignore them, but I was happier when we finally snuck away from the party, went back to JC's house, and took each other to bed.

Once the tour did start, I changed my mind; I wanted JC back home, after all. I hadn't realized just how much I'd miss him when he was gone. The month or so that we'd had had spoiled me, apparently, because I often found myself picking up the phone to dial his house before remembering that he was in Charlotte or Knoxville or somewhere. I had to force myself to focus in classes; more and more, I was thinking about him, trying to remember the feel of his arms around me, the taste of his kisses, the warmth of his touch. Too, I was mad at myself; I'd known perfectly well that he'd be going back out on tour, and yet here I was upset about it as if it had been sprung on me without warning.

But then, I thought, I had a right to be at least a little lonely. Most of the tour dates were spread out so far across the country that, with the exception of one show actually in Orlando, we wouldn't get to see them at all. Flying out on a weekend was out of the question; I was too busy with classwork and extra projects, and with my concentration already slipping, I had to fight to keep my grades anywhere in the decent range. For another thing, JC was as far away from me now as he'd been before -- and while he still called me every night, it was almost as if nothing had changed. I might as well have stayed in Bloomington for all the good it did me.

I wouldn't tell him, though. Even when they stopped back in Orlando and we were back in his bed for two nights, I didn't want to burden him with it. I didn't want him to think I was having second thoughts, either.

But when, a couple days afterward, Carrie saw me curled into a corner of the couch and asked me what was wrong, I couldn't keep from spilling it all out.

"I just hate this," I said after I'd finished venting my fears. "I miss him so much, and I moved down here to be with him and now he's gone, and it's like, why did I even bother to move, you know?" I glanced guiltily at Carrie; even though we'd both come to the idea independently, I didn't know that she would have moved if I hadn't.

She just nodded, though. "Believe me, I feel the same way," she said. "I miss Lance so much it makes me want to cry sometimes. I just-- I keep looking at the calendar and thinking that December can't come soon enough."

December marked the end of the tour. I sighed, in full agreement with her. "Yeah, and. Most of the time, I mean, I'm OK. But I just have these moments where I feel-- I just--" I swallowed hard. "I feel like this was all a mistake. And like, we did this too fast, we just should have finished at IU."

Carrie's mouth quirked a little. "With Lindsey."

"Yeah." A pang went through me. I really missed her. "It's so weird being in school without her."

"It'll be OK," Carrie said, and leaned over to pat my knee. "This is just for right now."

"I know." Still, though I didn't want to make things even more depressing, I couldn't help but think that this was the beginning of a pattern. And, if it was -- me sitting here struggling through classes while JC toured and did the popstar thing and was never around -- was this the right choice for me?

I loved him. I didn't doubt that; it was the truest feeling I'd ever had. But I didn't know if I could live like this, either. Romance seemed to fade to nothing in the light of the situation's harsh reality.

Though I tried not to let it get to me, JC's absence was difficult to bear at times -- in part, I thought, because I had had those vacation days with him over the summer, as well as the month before the tour had started back up. I made a few new friends in my various classes, but I was reluctant to tell them much about my life, sure that they'd think I was insane (or a rabid fangirl -- or both) if I mentioned my boyfriend by name. So Carrie was my only confidante, and keeping it secret wearied me. I couldn't even confide in Abbey, as she was back on the tour and I didn't want to disturb her time with Justin by complaining about my life.

One day I mentioned it to JC, during an early-afternoon phone call. We had been talking about missing each other while he lay in his bunk on the bus, on the way to St. Louis, and I could hear the steady mechanical thrum behind his voice. "It's just hard being here and. Not being able to tell people who I'm going out with."

"Yeah, I guess," he said. "They probably won't believe you and stuff."

"And if I show off the pictures Abbey took, they'd probably just think I used Photoshop or something."

"It's OK, hon. I'll be back there soon enough."

"Not soon enough for me," I sighed.

He laughed a little. "Yeah, I guess the reality of this is kind of less glamorous than it seems. But at least you're out of the spotlight, right? You don't have people bustin' down your door to ask you if you're seein' me, or takin' pictures of you shopping at the minimart."

"Well, no." I bit my lip. Actually, though I didn't question his feelings for me, his words sparked something in my mind. "Don't know if I'd mind if they did, though."

"Huh? You're kidding, right?" He sounded incredulous. "Baby, this life is insane. Reporters get in your face and ask you a million questions about the last time you ate a sandwich, paparazzi are always tryin' to get pictures of you walkin' the dog, you get no privacy. They're better to us in Orlando 'cause we live there, but -- you don't want that. Take my word for it."

"Yeah, but. I guess, it just. Sometimes it feels like I'm making all this up in my head. You know?"

"What are you talking about?" he asked warily.

I drew in a breath. "I. I don't even know, really. But with you not here, and I can't tell anyone about you, and even my own mother doesn't believe me -- sometimes it feels like maybe I really am some insane teenybopper who's just making up a fantasy of being with you."

JC was silent for a moment; then: "I'm -- I'm sorry," he said. "I don't really know what to tell you. I love you. You know that, right?"

"Yes," I said. "I just. I wish I could be with you."

"I want that, too, Karyn. I wish there was something I could do. But I can't just leave the tour and come home--"

"I know that," I muttered.

"--and you're so busy with school--"

"Yeah, I know," I said again, sourly. He stopped abruptly; the dead silence that followed made me wince. "Sorry. I shouldn't have brought it up."

"It's OK," he said absently.

"Maybe I shouldn't have transferred." I spoke without thinking, my train of thought carrying over from my previous musings.

"What?" JC sounded confused.

"You can't -- this is pointless." I got up, pacing around my room to shake off the nervous tension I was feeling. "Why are we doing this? We never get to see each other, you don't want anyone to know about me--"

"What?!" he repeated, sounding as exasperated as I felt. "Where is all this coming from? Just because I don't want your life to get totally turned upside down by people who just want a story--"

"At least then I can admit I'm seeing you," I said, the bitterness rising in my voice. "It's so easy for you, you can turn the phone off and forget I'm here--"

"Karyn!" JC said sharply. "Jesus, how can you say that? When have I done anything to make you doubt me--"

I swallowed hard. "You haven't. But you will. Or I will. It's only a matter of time."

JC took in a long breath before he spoke again. "I can't believe you honestly think that little of me. That you'd rather believe the stories you've read than the words I've said."

The anger had gone out of me, and the space left behind it was filled now by a quiet desperation. "Then maybe," and I had to swallow hard against a sob, "maybe I should just go back to IU." I stabbed the phone off with my thumb, jabbed at the power to shut it down completely, and threw it into a corner.

I don't know how much time passed before Carrie poked her head into the room. I hadn't bothered to turn the lights on, so as the sun had gone down, my room had fallen into darkness. "Hey," she said.

I cleared my throat, lifted my head from the pillow. "Hey." My voice sounded rough and scratchy, even to myself.

Carrie came in, sat down on the edge of the bed. "How are you?"

By way of answer, I put my head back down. "That good, huh?" she said wryly.

"I think we broke up," I mumbled.

"Oh, Karyn." She reached out and rubbed my shin.

I felt disconnected and numb, now that I'd cried myself out, and I shook my head. "It's OK. Probably better this way."

"But it's so sudden," she said. "Why? Was he mad?"

"No, it was just--" I tried to grap for the heart of the argument. "Just. I'm not sure I can live like this, with never seeing him, not knowing what he's doing."

"You love him, don't you?" she asked softly.

"Yeah." It wasn't a question. Despite my fear, my insecurities, and even despite the strangled argument we'd just had, my feelings for him were as strong as ever; in fact, the idea that I might never see him again made new tears spring to my eyes. I pressed a hand over my face.

"Then you should talk to him," Carrie said decisively. "Try to deal with this."

I wanted to ask her how she managed to get along without having Lance near, but I suspected it had less to do with their relationship and more with her general outlook on life. "Yeah. You're right," I said instead. "But I, I can't call him."

"Well." Carrie looked thoughtful for a few seconds, then glanced at me, an eyebrow raised. "Can you afford to skip a couple classes? You could get Justin or someone to fly you out, I'm sure he'd help."

Because of Abbey, I thought. Another nice, normal, non-crazy person. "OK," I said. "I'll call him."

By the time I got on the plane to St. Louis the following morning, I was feeling much improved. Carrie's practical assessment of the situation, her calm suggestions, had helped me to focus, to set aside my emotional wallowing and deal. I just hoped that without her by my side when I finally got to Missouri, I'd still be able to face things rationally.

I had a moment of panic in the St. Louis airport, but then I saw Mike, solid and patient, waiting at the baggage claim area with a sign that said simply "HUNTER", and my panic melted into a grin. He greeted me warmly and we went to find my bag.

My fears were further allayed when I got into the waiting SUV to find Justin already there. Despite the relative early hour -- my flight had had me up at far too early in the morning, and it wasn't much later now -- he was in good spirits and told me how he was really hoping we'd be able to patch things up, since JC had apparently been in a real funk last night. I couldn't tell him that I wasn't sure there was anything left to patch up.

We made it back to the hotel uneventfully, and Justin and Mike stayed quiet in the elevator. Swallowing my nerves, I tried to imagine what Carrie would tell me. "It's all right," she'd say. "He loves you and he doesn't want to break up with you. He'll be happy to see you."

That helped somewhat. By the time we reached the room JC was sharing with Joey -- "Usually Chris and C are in the same room, but I guess JC was in there alone last night, Joey said somethin' about him feeling gross," Justin explained -- I was able to grin at Justin.

"Thanks for helping me out with this," I told him while he unlocked the door.

"No problem," he replied. "It's just worth it to be able to see the look on his face when he sees you."

Justin pushed the door open, pocketed the keycard, then held the door open for me. Despite my excitement, I was still a bit nervous; cold sweat beaded in my palms, and my heart was pounding in my throat. As I moved further into the room, I registered the sound of someone running in behind us, and Joey's voice calling something about how JC wasn't feeling well and needed his rest--

Two heads on the pillow. That was the first thing my questing eyes registered, as I searched the cave-like darkness of the room, with its curtains shut against the morning's brightness, for his face. Two heads, both dark in the darkness, one with distinctly long, mussed black curls, gleaming dully, obscuring a female face. The other -- I saw short black hair for a moment, and gave a wordless prayer that it was Chris on whom my eyes rested, and the girl Victoria. Then the person rolled over, exposing his face, and then I could no longer deny the truth of my eyes.

It felt like my blood was draining out of me; I should have been mad, I thought, but all I felt was cold. I heard Justin's hushed "Oh my God" behind me, sounding as shocked as I felt. Suddenly, I couldn't stand to be in the room for a moment longer. Pushing past Justin and Joey -- whose flushed face showed equal parts astonishment and sheepish regret -- I escaped from the room, stumbled towards the elevator. I didn't know where I was going, aside from "away". Anywhere that wasn't this hotel sounded good to me -- anywhere that wasn't where I'd been thoughtlessly, humiliatingly, betrayed.

I was around the corner and halfway to the elevator when I heard my name being called out from behind me. The voice was lighter than the one I'd half-expected (or half-dreaded); as I slowed to a walk, Chris jogged up next to me. He didn't make a move to stop me. Instead, he walked with me, unusually silent, a comforting, warm presence.

At the elevator, he reached for my hand before I could press the down button. "Hey," he said. "I'm sorry."

"Why? It's not your fault." That was all I got out before the tears I'd been firmly suppressing emerged at last. Chris gathered me in his arms, letting me sob on his shoulder. When the sobs turned racking and hoarse, he drew away, patting me on the back to calm me down. Then he pushed the button to summon the elevator.

"Come on," he said. "Let's go get something to eat."

I knew what he was trying to do, and I appreciated it. Diplomatically, he was getting me away from JC -- because God only knew what I'd do to him right now -- and giving me time to cool down. At the same time, the guys were probably giving JC nine kinds of hell, regardless of whether the girl was still there. (I hoped, too, that they were raking Joey over the coals, since he'd sounded rather as if he were covering for JC.)

We went down to the hotel's restaurant in silence; Chris didn't say anything until we'd ordered. Then he leaned forward, hands supporting his chin in a pose typical of a bored child.

"How are you?" he asked.

I couldn't suppress a bitter chuckle. "Do you want the short list or the long?"

"Either," he prompted. Sighing, I unrolled my silverware and began playing with the fork.

"Hurt. Betrayed. I'd really like to wrap my hands around his throat and squeeze, you know? I mean, all the things we've done, said, been through -- now I'm wondering if they meant anything at all. And then I'm wondering if this was the first time, so please, don't even ask if I'm depressed."

Chris reached over and grasped my hand. Only then did I notice that I'd been digging the tines of the fork into the tablecloth. "Well, I can tell you that this was the first time. I mean, I room with the guy, so I at least know that much."

"So what happened last night?" I asked.

"After you guys fought..." He hesitated before going on. "We all went out clubbing. JC had a few drinks. I remember saying something to him about it and he got upset with me. So later on, when he and Joey left, I didn't notice. Joey caught me when the rest of us came back, told me C had had too much to drink and wasn't feeling well -- I guess I didn't really think anything of it, because I was dog-tired. So I didn't realize what was going on until the ruckus this morning."

"Mm." I leaned back to allow the waitress, newly-arrived, to slide my plate of pancakes onto the table before me. I hadn't thought breakfast would be appealing at all; but given time to calm down, my stomach rumbled appreciatively at the smell of the warm, doughy pancakes, and I dug in ravenously. Chris started in on his omelette as well; for a few moments we ate in companionable silence.

Once again I found myself flashing on the apparent absurdity of the situation: how bizarre was it that I was sitting across from Chris Kirkpatrick, the founding member of my favorite group, watching him wolf down hash browns like there was no tomorrow -- and that he'd just walked me down here to keep me from killing another member of the same group?

"I know it probably doesn't help," Chris said, interrupting my ruminations; I looked up across the table at him. "But he's really been good before now. He's just kind of--"

"Chris," I said in a flat voice. He blinked at me, somewhat owlishly, through his glasses. "Don't defend him, okay? I don't care. I'm just going to go see if I can get an early return flight with the other half of my ticket, and if not, I'll just sit in the airport until Wednesday."

Chris shrugged carelessly, said, "I don't believe you," and took another bite of omelette.

"What's so hard to believe?" I'd be lying if I said I was still perfectly calm. He was annoying me just a little.

"That you don't care. Didn't you just say ten minutes ago that you wanted to kill him because you were so upset?"

"Yeah, so? I've calmed down. I just want to leave, what's the big deal?"

"No one calms down that fast." Chris reached for the carafe of orange juice and refilled his glass. "Don't you want to at least have it out with him first?"

I pursed my lips, thinking about it for a moment, then shook my head. "No. Not really. I don't particularly feel the need or desire to call him a cheating, untrustworthy bastard. I actually don't want to see his face again." Indeed, visions of tearing his face out of all my 'N Sync posters for a bonfire were already entertaining me.

"Oh." Chris shrugged again. "Then don't turn around."

It was like telling a dog not to bark. I swiveled in my chair to see JC there, looking like he'd just been punched in the stomach.

* * *

Ten minutes later, we were ensconced once again in JC's room. I'd given in, with bad grace, to his plea to talk -- convinced only by the drawn, ghastly look of his face. Chris had refused my attempt to pay for my share of the meal, a gesture that nearly made me cry -- and also made me realize how close to the edge I was.

The room had been cleaned, in my absence, of any indication that last night's error had taken place. He'd even made his bed; I sat on Chris's anyway, which was still made up from yesterday.

"Okay," I said, setting my purse down beside me. "So, talk."

JC swallowed as he sat down, placing his hands on either side of his hips. "First of all, I know it probably doesn't mean that much, but I'm sorry." He paused, glancing up at me from under his eyelashes, to see if that got a reaction. I said nothing, and he continued.

"I was upset last night. I had too much to drink, wasn't thinking straight. It was a mistake, I knew it the whole time. And -- I'm -- I'm just so sorry I screwed this up. I didn't want to hurt you."

He seemed to run out of steam. I sighed a little, feeling a remarkable calm steal over me.

"Is that it? Excuses?" I shook my head. "And are you sorry you did it? Or just sorry you got caught?"

JC's head jerked up; his eyes, staring incredulously at me, were bright blue beneath a fall of disarrayed, unkempt black hair. "You think I don't regret it with every bone in my body? That I'd do it again if I had the chance?"

"Yeah, I do," I shot back. "I know you like playing the field. You've never exactly made a secret of it."

"Until I met you," he said, argumentative and plaintive all at once. "You're different from every woman I've known, Karyn. When I'm with you, I'm the happiest man alive -- and when you're not around, I miss you more than I can stand. And last night, when you hung up on me, I've never wanted so much to curl up and die. And when the others said they were going out, it just -- have you ever just wanted to crawl into oblivion, until you don't have to think anymore, until nothing hurts?"

His voice was pleading. Numbly, knowing exactly what he meant, I nodded. I couldn't even open my mouth against the sudden tide of memory threatening to drown me.

"Karyn?" JC's voice came dimly, as from a great distance. Dazed, I shook my head, focusing on him again.

"Yeah. Sorry. I'm -- this was a bad idea. I should go." Grabbing at my purse, I stood up.

"Karyn, I -- are you all right?" JC reached for my arms; in his grasp, I felt myself trembling. "Are you mad at me? Talk to me."

"No, I'm -- I am mad at you, but I shouldn't be here." I wriggled, trying to get away from him. "This whole thing was a bad idea."

"God, Karyn, please don't leave like this. I'd do anything to make things right again."

He was talking -- I understood the words -- but it was as if a thick wall of cotton had risen up between us, obfuscating his words. Or perhaps I was a radio station just out of range, too far away to be tuned in to his signal. All I knew was that I wanted to get out of here now, and he wasn't letting me.

"I can't -- you can't--" I heard the confusion in my own tone, and tried to calm down. "You can't just make it right again. That's not how it works. You can't just go on pretending like nothing happened, ignoring it--"

"That's not what I want to do!" he protested, and his hand on my arm shook.

"Doesn't matter, that's what'll happen. It's what always happens--"

JC's eyes were a confusion of anger and befuddlement. "Karyn -- look, please listen to me."

I didn't want to, but a part of me was grudgingly pointing out a flaw in my desire to get out of the room: if I ran away now, the problem wouldn't go away; in fact, it'd only exacerbate the matter. I stopped struggling, and JC released my arms.

"Hear me out?" he asked. I sat back down on the bed and nodded, rubbing my upper arms where he'd gripped me. It wasn't that he'd hurt me; I just needed something to do with my hands.

"First of all," he said, "I love you. I don't want this to end. You -- you mean so much to me, you're incredibly important in my life."

"How?" I whispered. "You barely know me."

"Then tell me." His hands reached for mine, bridging the gap between us. "Tell me why you think this can't work. Tell me something. Anything."

I stared down at our hands. He wanted to know? Fine. Let him see me, the real me.

"When I was sixteen, I tried to kill myself."

"What?!" That took him aback, and now I knew he was paying attention to me.

"My boyfriend broke up with me because he thought I was too depressing--" I couldn't help but throw in a sarcastic chuckle there. "--even though he was the one into Nine Inch Nails and Marilyn Manson. So I took a knife to my wrists. My, my dad found me in the bathroom."

JC squeezed my hands; his touch was good, allowing me to focus on something physical instead of the memory of that evening of six years previous. Turning my palms up, JC traced a thumb gently over the faint white scars, now almost indistinguishable from the normal lines of the wrists.

"I'm -- I'm sorry, Karyn, I didn't know--"

"It's not like anyone could have told you."

"Why did you--?"

"I was clinically depressed," I said softly. "Didn't find this out, of course, until after I'd been hospitalized for the attempt. I'm on meds for it now, so it's not as bad when I get down. But back then, it just -- it felt like my world was over."

"Last night--?" He looked up at me. I dreaded the question in his eyes.

"Last night I did not do anything except throw stuff around," I replied. "And then I called Justin, and he arranged a flight for me. I w-was supposed to be here until Wednesday." My shaking voice was betraying me, despite all my fighting to keep my emotions inside.

"You still can be," he said. He seemed to flinch towards me as if he wanted to hug me, but I moved back at the first signal of his movement, and he subsided.

"No, I don't think it's a good idea." Even now, I was thinking of things that I wanted to say in anger, things that wouldn't be forgiven in calm.

"I just -- I want to make sure you're all right."

"That _I'm_ all right?" That hit me, and I responded before thinking. "What, are you afraid I'm gonna go back to Florida and put a bullet in my head?"

He recoiled at that. "No, Karyn, it's nothing like that. I swear, I want you here."

I bit my lip, closing my eyes against a fresh wave of tears. "Well, I -- I don't want to be here."

The silence that settled between us seemed a deadly blanket, a frozen calm. His hand slipped away from mine, and he leaned back, resting his palms on his knees, with that gut-punched expression again. "All right," he said, finally, in a voice gone stiff with repressed emotion. "All right. I'll get one of the drivers to take you to the airport. They'll make sure you get a good flight back."

Trapped by his politeness, I could only reply in kind. "Thank you," I said, and stood up.

JC was as good as his word; Mike went with me on the silent trip back to the airport, where he proceeded to argue with the clerk at the ticket counter until I got a return ticket in first class. He surprised me with a gruff hug before heading back out to the limo. As I headed back to my gate, I wondered if he'd done that because he thought that this was the last time he might ever see me.

 _Well, it might well be_. That thought spurred on the one that I hadn't had a chance to say goodbye to Chris or any of the others, and I had to stop and sit down rather abruptly then.

When the voice crackled over the PA to announce that my flight was now boarding, I stood, gathering myself up. I wiped my wet face with my hands, hoping only that I could make it into the plane without dissolving in tears again. I didn't even care what anyone would think of my swollen eyes and patchy skin (one reason I hated crying; it made me go all pale and blotchy).

Once the plane was in the air, I put my head down against the airline pillow and tried to sleep. If I slept, I didn't have to think about JC, and right now I wanted that more than anything.

I came back to the apartment several hours later to find that Carrie was out (at class, I realized; right now, the concept of attending classes seemed alien to me), so I dropped my bag and sat down limply on the couch. The message light was flashing on the answering machine. With something of a sense of dread, I reached over and hit the button to play the stored messages.

The first had been left this morning by my mother, asking how I was. I'd call her later, I supposed; she'd called at a time that I'd normally be out of class, so she might be worrying, now, because I wasn't home. I'd just have to leave out the mention of my brief trip to St. Louis. I erased her message. Next was a call from a classmate of Carrie's, calling about some notes he needed to copy for a history class. I ignored the machine and reached for my bag, looking to see if the aspirin bottle I kept on me had anything left in it. The emotional rollercoaster of the past couple of days, coupled with two flights in less than six hours, had my head pounding.

Chris's voice startled me from my search, and I looked up at the machine. "Hey, Karyn," he was saying on the message. "Uh, I know you're probably not home yet, but your phone kept goin' to voicemail, so." That was because it was still off, still laying in the corner where I'd tossed it last night. "I just talked to JC, he told me you-- you decided not to stay? Hon, we're worried about you. Give me a call when you hear this. Oh, and say hey to Carrie for me, OK?"

The machine beeped, at the end of its messages. I was tempted to reach over and erase Chris's, but somehow I couldn't summon the energy. It was nice to hear Chris's voice and to know he was concerned; still, I couldn't make myself care. Even the thought that JC might have told him about my suicide attempt didn't bother me. JC was the only person I'd told in years; I couldn't escape the awareness of it in high school, where rumor traveled like wildfire. That was the major reason I'd chosen a more distant school for college; most of my classmates had gone straight to the University of Michigan, and away from them, I could escape the stigma. I'd never even told Carrie or Lindsey, hadn't wanted to see their pitying looks and then the glance they'd inevitably have given each other, dismissing me as mental. They knew only that I was on medication for depression.

Now, I just didn't care. Let JC tell the guys; let him tell the world. Let him do whatever the hell he wanted, as long as he stayed away from me.

If it wasn't for Carrie, I wouldn't have made it through the semester. She got me moving, pushed me to go to class when all I wanted to do was lay on the couch and stare at the TV. She reminded me to take my meds and to take pictures for a photography project. I shuffled from one class to the next, feeling like a zombie most of the time. It was easier than thinking; I could act normal, take notes, smile at people, but I was wrapped in fog, seeing everything at a remove.

The one thing I knew I should be dealing with was the one thing I couldn't. JC called nearly every day. Sometimes the machine taped him rambling about things I didn't want to hear, and I deleted them as soon as I heard his voice. Sometimes Carrie talked to him, and occasionally she offered me the phone, but I didn't want to deal with it.

"He misses you," she said, once, after one of his calls. "He said he can't stop thinking about you. That he loves you."

I couldn't say anything to that. I could feel emotion under the surface, threatening to penetrate the foggy shroud in which I'd wrapped myself. Instead, I got up and walked away, muttering something about some homework I had to do.

That night, though, I thought of what Carrie had said; unbidden, her words came back to my mind, and I couldn't stop the tears. Damn it, I still loved him -- but it didn't matter, I could never be good enough for him, and I didn't know how he could love me. Not after what I had done. Despite my hatred of my own actions, though, I knew that I still wanted him; knew, too, that I didn't deserve him, and that I'd have to keep discouraging him until he finally realized he'd be better off with someone else.

I had just come back from the photography lab a few days later, grumpy and annoyed at myself for not paying attention while mixing solution, which had ruined several pictures in developing, when the phone rang. Distracted, I grabbed it. "Yeah?"

"Karyn? It's me, don't hang up--"

I froze. JC. Shit. I knew I should have let the machine get it.

"Are you there?" he asked.

I closed my eyes and pressed my fingers over them. "Yeah. Yeah, I'm here. What is it?"

"I wanted to talk to you, uh, see how you are and stuff." He sounded a little harried; from the ambient sound behind his voice, I guessed that he was in a car.

"I'm fine." I grabbed a bottle of water out of the fridge, then went into the living room and sat down. "Just screwed up some pictures for a class, but I'll mix more solution and it'll be fine. How about you?"

"Good, I'm. Well, I mean, I'm all right, aside from missing the hell out of you."

"JC," I said, half under my breath.

"I know," he said, tone exasperated. "I know you don't want to see me anymore, but I still don't know why, and I really want to. I mean, yes, I did something really stupid, and the rest of my life I'll be sorry for it, but, God, why won't you talk to me? Let me try to help, please."

"You can't," I said. Something about the whole conversation made me feel bone-tired. "No one can, except me."

"Then let me help you with -- with whatever you need me to be. I want to, I want to be here for you."

"JC, I can't do this." I put the water down, drew my knees up to my chest. "I'm not. I'm not worth this."

"How can you say that?" He sounded incredulous. "How -- God, Karyn. You're one of the most amazing people I know."

"And that's why," I said, and I couldn't keep the shudder out of my voice. "Because you think that, you don't know, you--"

"I want to know, Karyn, I want to be part of your life. The good parts and the bad parts, no matter how bad they get."

"No, JC. Please--"

"Karyn, I don't understand."

"You have to stop calling me. I don't understand -- you don't--" I took a ragged breath, fought down the swelling lump in my throat. "I'm no good for you, I'm not a good girlfriend, I'm not a good person--"

"I love you."

"I -- I know." My voice sounded broken and distant. "But y-you shouldn't. I don't know why--"

"Because I do." The sudden fierceness of his voice brought fresh tears to my eyes. "Because you are a good person, and smart, and funny, and beautiful, and it's impossible for me not to love you.

"Anyway, you can't stop me just by telling me to stop. It's not that simple."

"H-how are you--"

I'd already deduced that he was in a car, but it wasn't until I heard a car door slam outside that I realized what was happening -- that time had passed me by without my awareness, and the tour was over; he was back in Orlando. "No, no, no," I chanted, juggling the phone in my hands as I raced to the window. From my limited view of the parking lot, I could see JC climbing out of his Jeep, his face a curious jumble of frustration, worry, and fear. Even so, the sight of him was a physical blow -- a sudden jolt, reminding me only too sharply of how much I'd missed him in the past month.

He was heading towards the door, cellphone in one hand. "Go away," I cried at the phone. "I don't want to see you."

"You keep saying that, Karyn, but I don't believe you." His footsteps sounded on the landing, and then I realized that the door was unlocked and lunged towards it.

The anticipated turn and jerk on the doorknob didn't come, though: I held the lock shut for several moments before realizing that he wasn't immediately storming the door. I heard a faint beep which sounded like his cellphone being turned off. Through it, to my surprise, I heard him begin to sing.

" _Lying in your arms, so close together  
Didn't know just what I had  
Now I toss and turn, cause I'm without you  
How I'm missing you so bad_

_"Where was my head? Where was my heart?  
Now I cry, alone in the dark_

_"I lie awake, I drive myself crazy  
Drive myself crazy -- thinking of you  
Made a mistake when I let you go, baby  
I drive myself crazy  
Wanting you the way that I do  
Wanting you the way that I do..._"

His voice, unaccompanied, was bare with honesty, naked with need. I'd never heard such raw emotion in him before, and the sound of it now brought tears to my eyes.

Almost without thinking, I reached out, numbly, and turned the lock, pulled the door open. JC stood on the other side; he looked as lost as I did, his own eyes glistening, his cellphone half-forgotten in one hand. He seemed frozen, speechless; his eyes, full of fear and worry and hope, searched mine anxiously, and he swallowed as if against strong emotion.

"Oh, God," I said, and stepped into his arms.

"Karyn," he said later. We'd moved inside, to lay down on my bed -- both on our sides, facing each other, one of his arms curled under the pillows and the other hand touching my face. "I'm sorry."

I shook my head. "It's all right. I'm, I'm the one who screwed all this up."

He closed his eyes, then looked at me again. "Can we--. I really want to make this work. I know we're both busy a lot of the time and I hate that, but I'll do whatever I can."

I nodded, touched his high cheekbone. "We can, we, I mean. I can't promise that I won't flip out again."

"I won't ask you to promise that. But I'll try to understand." He pressed a kiss to my forehead. "And I'll always be here to listen to you and hold you."

I swallowed and looked up at him. After all I'd gone through, seeing him again seemed unreal.

"And," he said, "I want to take you to the Billboards."

I blinked, speechless, unable to form any kind of reaction to this. He smiled at me. "Well, this way you can prove to everyone you're seeing me, right? We'll get you a dress, you'll get to meet all kinds of people, it'll be a lot of fun."

"JC," I whispered. Too stunned to speak, I put my arms around him, kissing him. After a moment, I drew back with a frown.

"What is it?" he said, looking concerned.

"I can't," I said. "I have a Geology exam next week."

JC laughed and hugged me. "No, you're going. We'll figure it out and you'll be back in plenty of time."

I couldn't stop myself from smiling. I felt as if I were emerging, at last, from my shroud of fog, and the sun was bright and warm in JC's smile.


End file.
